


For the Ends that Justify the Means

by Echovous



Series: Iron Legacies [4]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Ahamkara magic, Blood and Gore, Chains, Dark Ages, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light vs Light, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Past Abuse, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment, hit lists, powerful relics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echovous/pseuds/Echovous
Summary: Staring down at the lifeless body of Citan, a man who was once a friend, Felwinter knows that he should feel something, anything. Yet, even after he’s spent the better half of his life preparing for this moment, has suffered through countless hardships, sleepless nights, and the constant looming threat of doom hanging over his head to kill this Warlord, he finds that the burden still remains.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a strange thing to feel nothing. No remorse, nor triumph, just nothing. 

Staring down at the lifeless body of Citan, a man who was once a friend, Felwinter knows that he should feel something, anything. Yet, even after he’s spent the better half of his life preparing for this moment; has suffered through countless hardships, sleepless nights, and the constant looming threat of doom hanging over his head; even after he’s spent years training, harnessing his Light to wield as a weapon, and worked out every possible flaw in his plans; and even after those years have paid off, a corrupted Warlord lays dead forever, and he can finally allow the burden to lift off his shoulders, he finds that the burden still remains. 

“Felwinter,” his Ghost broke through the dead silence. 

Felwinter didn’t answer at first.

“What are you thinking,” his Ghost asked. 

“Nothing,” he snapped out of his trance-like state and quickly turned to leave the room, and Citan, behind.

His reluctance to answer only made the drone inquisitive. “You’re always thinking,” he drifted closer. “Tell me.” 

Felwinter stopped in his tracks, midway between the entrance to the stronghold and the central chamber. He sighed, his breath a dark cloud in the cool air of the underground. He took a moment to glance at the walls of the stronghold. He had so many memories of this place. Awful memories that he’d much rather leave in the past, back when this place was full of commotion, full of other Risen. Now it was all empty and the whole stronghold gave off a harrowing feel.

Six years ago he thought he left this place for good. He thought he’d never have to come back, not for anything. At least, that’s what he’d told himself at the time. He was going to leave, to live up in the mountains, claim them as his own, and if he couldn’t handle it, he was willing to die up there alone. 

Plans soon changed. For better or for worse. He had a... visitor... in the Mothyards, and from then on, he was an Iron Lord, sworn to protect the survivors and end the reign of the Warlords. 

He’d thought that after all he risked to get assigned this “negotiation” and get Lord Radegast to agree to have him go solo, and then having his mission play out perfectly, that he’d feel something. But... Citan is only one Risen. Sure, he was the Warlord, the leader of the sector, but he had others beneath him to do his biding. Others that could be just as ruthless as he was. 

A sudden realization washed over him and his shoulder straightened. “This isn’t over,” he said. His voice was quiet and soft. Outside it would’ve been lost in the wind, but in the stronghold, it echoed across the stone walls.

His Ghost glanced back down the narrow hall, back to where Citan’s body laid in the central chamber. “It is over. Citan’s dead. Not even he can come back from that.” 

“I don’t mean him,” Felwinter shook his head. “He’s not the only one out there. There are others that helped make him that way.” 

“Citan’s friends?” The Ghost asked, raising his voice. 

Felwinter hesitsted. His Ghost hit it right on the head. “...I’m still debating.”

“Don’t even think about going after anyone else,” his Ghost sparked angrily. “That’s a good way to get us both killed, or worse—“

“I know how they fight,” Felwinter defended himself. 

“They’ll snap you in half!”

“I can take them all on if I wanted.”

“I’m sure you can,” the drone scoffed. “But not impromptu.”

“So this, just now, doesn’t count?” Felwinter challenged, throwing a look down the hall they’d come from and to the room where Citan laid dead. 

“Please, you’ve been planning this for years,” the drone rolled his single optic. “If the Iron Lords hadn’t set their eyes on Citan—by chance might I add—then you would’ve just came yourself.” 

Felwinter was hardly listening. He’d already turned to one of the doors lining the hall, trying the handle. Locked. 

“And this plan of yours nearly failed. Citan could’ve knocked you out of mid air and had you pinned to the floor in a second!” His Ghost continued, pausing for a moment, watching him mess with the door. “What are you doing?”

“Breaking in.” Felwinter stepped to the other side of the hall and lunged at the door, lifting his leg high to slam the handle. The knob didn’t break off and Felwinter was left with a dull ache in his heel. “Ach,” he grunted.

His Ghost laughed at his failed attempt. “Oh, enough of that. Let’s just get out of here.” Then he added, “you’re not going to find anything.”

“I should at least try.” Felwinter pressed both of his palms against the knob and allowed his Void Light to surge within him.

His Ghost watched him with annoyance. “Do you have a thing about not listening to me?”

Felwinter remained silent, focusing on the knob disintegrating atom by atom in his hands. 

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” his Ghost snapped, annoyed at Felwinter’s silence. “This is exactly how we got into this mess in the first place: you not listening to me!” 

“According to you,” Felwinter mumbled. 

“Who was it who warned you about Citan?” The Ghost questioned.

Felwinter’s grip on the door tightened and he felt a surge of Void Light within him, tearing a hole through the heavy door. 

“Because I believe that was me. I told you to run the other way, but you didn’t,” the Ghost continued.

He just loved to remind him of that ever since his rebirth, that he warned him about Citan. He did warn him, but he also warned him of so much with little reasoning or answers to anything Felwinter asked. At the time, Felwinter was blindly following his Ghost, and he didn’t like that. So it should come as no surprise that when he’s approached by a man who will offer him answers that he’ll follow him instead. Still, it’s a low blow, even for his Ghost.

“It doesn’t matter,” Felwinter stated with a dulled tone. “Citan will never be a problem again.” 

With the handle gone, Felwinter was able to kick the door open. He tensed as the door swung on rusty hinges to slowly reveal the interior of the room. Void Light rose up in his palms, ready to fight whoever was inside. He knew no one was in there, he couldn’t sense a presence, but his muscles were trained to be untrusting nonetheless. 

The door hit the opposing wall, producing a sound that sent a shock up Felwinter’s spine and he jumped. His Ghost produced an annoyed chinking sound but said nothing. Felwinter glanced at his Ghost before returning his eyes forward. The room before him was pitch black, having no light source to reveal what was inside. He blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness faster. Exo eyes could see better than Human eyes in the dark, but his eyes would take a moment to adjust. Already, he could make out the shape of a huge war table in the center of the room. 

He stepped inside, slowly and hesitantly, sweeping his gaze back and forth to watch for anything that could be moving in the dark. 

“What are you even looking for?” His Ghost sighed with a tinge of frustration. 

“Clues on the whereabouts of the Risen close to Citan,” Felwinter said, reaching the war table. He stretched out his hand and slid it against the surface. It felt soft, and the surface slid against the table it laid over. A map. He lifted his hand off the table and glanced over his shoulder at his Ghost who was watching the door behind him. “If I can find one of them, I can find them all.” 

“Okay, but exactly who are you looking for?”

“Why do you want to know so badly,” Felwinter absently asked as he stepped around the table. 

On his way to the other side of the table, his boot kicked against something lying on the floor. He leaned over to pick it up. Now, with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the device on the ground as if he was seeing it in the pale afternoon. It was a receiver, a communications device. He snatched it up in his hands, eager to see if it still worked. This could be crucial. 

The Ghost huffed out an angry sound. “Maybe because you’re my Risen. If you die, I’m screwed.” He paused a moment, allowing the silence in the room to grow deeper before he spoke. “You should learn to pick your battles.”

“I am picking my battles,” he argued, more focused on the receiver than the conversation. 

“What, by righting every wrong that’s been done to you?” The Ghost asked. 

Felwinter looked up from the receiver. “No. This isn’t about what’s been done to me. If it was, I wouldn’t be able to right every wrong.” He paused, lowering his gaze. “People don’t change. What has happened to me in the past can and will happen to others if I don’t stop it.”

“How noble,” his Ghost grumbled sarcastically, his eye flickering over to the receiver Felwinter held in his hands. “What is that? Is that a radio?”

“A receiver,” Felwinter answered, turning the device in his hands. “No transponder attached. Communication will only be one-way.” 

“That won’t be much of a problem,” his Ghost said. “We don’t have to talk with our enemies to hear what they’re saying.”

“So you’re with me on this?” Felwinter met his Ghost’s eye.

The drone’s shell prickled. “Never said that.”

That was fine. His Ghost didn’t have to say he was with him. In fact, he didn’t need his Ghost to support him on this. 

“We should probably start heading back to the City before we’re missed,” Felwinter said. 

“Like the Iron Lords would miss you...” His Ghost commented, then said, “If it was up to me, we wouldn’t be going back at all.” 

Felwinter narrowed his eyes at him. “You’d rather have my allegiance lie with the Warlords?”

The drone scoffed. “I’d rather your allegiance lie with no one. It was much safer that way.”

Much lonelier, too, he nearly said aloud, but stopped himself last second. 

“You might not see the things I do but I know that, given the chance, the Iron Lords wouldn’t hesitate to—“ His Ghost immediately cut himself off and snapped around to stare at the door. 

Back in the hallway, the sound of the stronghold door scraping open echoed across the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be loooong, and updates will definitely be sporadic until I get around to a regular posting schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

The distinct scraping sound of the stronghold door opening silenced Felwinter and his Ghost. It froze them in place as if the scraping was an incantation, commanding them to be still. All Felwinter could hear was his synthetic heart pumping the fluid in his veins. The near silence almost made him question whether of not he was hearing things. The past few days he’s gone without sleep could have cursed him with auditory hallucinations; however, his Ghost heard it too. 

“Lord Citan,” an all-too real voice called from the hall. It sounded rough and heavy with suspicion. Felwinter recognized it, but he couldn’t quite match the man’s voice with the man’s name. 

“Move,” The Ghost whispered, prodding him in the soft part of his shoulder with the edge of his shell. 

The push from his Ghost sent him into motion. He quickly spun around back into the room and stepped behind the war table. He crouched low enough to use the table as cover. He fumbled to bring his shotgun into his hands and pointed the barrel at the door, finger on the trigger, ready to fire.

Right now he doesn’t know anything about his current predicament. He doesn’t know who the man is, why the man is here, and how he relates to Citan. All he knows is that there is no easy way out of this. There is only so much time before he is found out. Citan’s stronghold, despite the labyrinthine halls, is rather small, and the space between himself and the man is shrinking. Every footstep can be heard, rising in volume as they near Felwinter’s position. 

Felwinter remained still and silent, more dead than alive, as he listened to the soft footsteps thump along the stronghold floor. The man who had been walking slow and hesitantly was now walking with even confidence, right down the corridor. The man knew something was up. It wouldn’t be long until he reached the central chamber and found Citan’s corpse still lying in the same position he died in. He should’ve hidden him...

“Are you done with him yet?” The man called out again, footsteps padding closer and closer. 

Those words, “are you done with him,” stuck with Felwinter, and not in a good way. This man knew about the whole meeting. He knew I was here! There was going to be an ambush! Citan was planning it! Thoughts rushed through Felwinter’s mind like snow in an avalanche. He struggled to ease his breathing and think rationally. Of course the intruder knew. All of the Iron Lords knew I would be here, so it only makes sense that the Warlords would know I would be here too. Citan would tell everyone.

Felwinter tried to force the Void Light twitching in hid hands to be as still as he was, but that task was impossible. He knew how dire this situation was and his instincts were screaming at him to move. 

In two seconds this man will see the open door, and in another two seconds, he’ll see me and if I can’t move fast enough or shoot him first, I’m dead. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve known something was up.

Felwinter’s finger tightened on the trigger as the footsteps fell closer and closer to the door. Four steps away, three, then a shape in the doorway. The figure entered the room, locking his eyes on Felwinter’s. In an instant, the man jerked backwards, flailing his arms to catch his balance against the door frame. “You’re dead!” The cloaked man screamed. “Y-you’re supposed to be dead!” 

Felwinter fired, hitting the man in the chest. The man gasped, the impact having knocked the breath out of him, and collapsed against the door. He scrabbled for a grip on the frame only to lose it and fall out into the hall and out of sight. 

Felwinter stood, vaulting over the war table, and rushed to the door. He knew the importance of securing a kill and how fatal it can be to prematurely think a battle is finished. This cloaked man is Risen, well-armored, and fully able to take a shotgun blast to the chest and survive. The man would be waiting to attack him in the hall to turn the battle to his side. It would be a game of chance running through the door. The man could go low or go high, and Felwinter couldn’t prepare for both. But he wouldn’t have to.

Felwinter redirected himself to run straight at the wall beside the door. He tucked his shotgun back into his coat and retrieved two concealed daggers he had strapped to his sides beneath his coat. Just before he reached the wall, he jumped, extending a hand outward. He gripped at the air as Void Light rose between his fingers, soon enveloping his whole body in it’s cold aura. He pulled his hand back towards himself, pulling himself through the Void, and in extension, the wall. He landed heavily on the other side, nearly loosing his balance on the stone floor. 

He spun around to see the cloaked man pressed against the wall, arm cocked back and ready to fire a pistol. The man peeked around the door and saw that Felwinter was no longer in the room. For a fraction of a second he stared into the empty room, but something made him spin around. His eyes went wide when he saw Felwinter. 

“What the Hell!” The man screamed his last words just before Felwinter aimed his dagger and plunged it beneath the man’s chin where his neck met his jaw. 

The man let out a gargled noise at the deep puncture and his face twisted in agony. He slammed himself up against the wall, taking Felwinter with him. The man screamed, releasing animalistic noises as he tried to speak with his slashed everything. He clawed at Felwinter, trying to force him away. His eyes began to roll to the back of his head as he fought, and he was just able to unsheathe a blade of his own. The man brought the serrated edge up to Felwinter’s neck, but the man’s grip was weakening with the combined efforts of suffocation and blood loss. The man’s hand drifted down to rest on the fur collar of Felwinter’s coat, unable to cut through it.

Felwinter shouldered the knife away from his neck and reached to angle his second dagger perpendicular to the first. The second dagger drew more blood as he held the man’s head up while he ripped the first blade from his neck. Arterial blood sprayed out from the massive wound the dagger left, covering Felwinter’s silver gauntlets in speckled scarlet stains. The man still clawed at Felwinter, but his motions slowed and he sunk to the floor, light fading from his eyes. 

Felwinter sheathed his daggers and pulled out his shotgun in preparation for the man’s Ghost. Much like Citan’s, it didn’t hesitate. The drone flashed into view, darting to its Risen’s shoulder. The Ghost’s shell began to part as Light swirled within it. Felwinter was quicker this time. Before the Ghost could surge the man full of Light and bring him back from the dead, Felwinter fired. The Ghost shattered into a thousand pieces, each twinkling to the floor like dust.

Not a moment later the room was silent again in almost a haunting way. 

“Who was this?” Felwinter asked. His eyes were still on the corpse. He knew the man was dead but some part of him still feared he would stand up again. 

“One of Sheir’s assassins, judging by the cloak,” his Ghost answered after a pause. 

Sheir. Citan’s head scout. Sheir is lethal at any range, and well trained compared to other Warlords’ soldiers. 

“So... Sheir still works for Citan,” Felwinter said, looking down at the corpse.

“Apparently.” 

“We could use this as a lead,” For the most part, Felwinter was thinking out loud. 

“Add Sheir to the list?” His Ghost asked sarcastically.

“He was already on the list,” Felwinter stated absently. 

Sheir would be hard to find. Very hard. The scout didn’t spend much time in Citan’s barracks. He is always in the woods watching the territory, remaining unseen to even his own soldiers. He is a killer to both people and animals. He silently executes all of his victims, sometimes with them not even realizing it, and then strings their bodies to trees surrounding Citan’s territory. These bodies serve as warnings to anyone and everyone who would dare trespass or step out of line, that the body could be them if they weren’t careful. 

Felwinter had personally received a warning from Sheir. Not long after he’d left Citan and took up Felwinter Peak as his territory, he descended to find a body of a dead Exo. The Exo was broken and twisted, unrecognizable. Their face, a permanent look of terror of which he could only assume was there as they died a death that couldn’t have been quick. This cruel, unnecessary, “warning” had obviously been left for him, warning that Sheir either wanted to kill him or had been ordered to. 

The warning was also what officially made him sleep with one eye open. A man like Sheir, who likes to fight a psychological battle, is unpredictable. Sheir could be out there in the woods patrolling right now. If he wanted to kill him when he left Citan, he’ll definitely want to kill him now that he’s killed Citan. Felwinter wasn’t afraid of Sheir. He knew he could kill him if given the chance, but that was the problem: Sheir wouldn’t give him a chance. 

“We really need to get going,” Felwinter said, turning to face the stronghold door, cracked just enough to allow a sliver of moonlight inside. 

“Have everything you need,” his Ghost asked passively.

Felwinter felt his side for the receiver he had tucked into his coat, finding the edges with his fingers. This receiver was the only thing he had taken from the entire stronghold. Maybe it wasn’t enough. He could save himself a trip back here if he thoroughly searched the stronghold. It wouldn’t take too long. All he’d have to do was search the rooms...

“Yeah,” Felwinter answered, continuing to the door. “I have everything.” The receiver would have to suffice. He really wanted to be done with this awful place.


	3. Chapter 3

Felwinter emerged from the dark stronghold into a valley of white. The moon, framed by scattered cloud coverage, sent beams of brilliant moonlight to the ground, causing the snow to shine. The only thing that interrupted the light was the tall, looming shadows of the trees ahead of him. He began forward, leaving the stronghold behind. The stone path leading up to Citan’s stronghold had been shoveled, and Felwinter easily thumps across it and into the deep snow.

“How long has it been,” Felwinter asked, using his old tracks to make the trek easier. 

“It doesn’t matter,” his Ghost answered with a dull voice. “The Iron Lords are already suspicious of you by now.” 

Felwinter continued to walk, giving himself a moment before responding. “We’ll be back by morning. Long before they suspect anything.” He didn’t know that for a fact but he hoped it was true.

“You know,” his Ghost began. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be going back at all.” 

Light pressed up against Felwinter’s palms but he suppressed it, taking a breath before responding. “You said that already.”

“Back on the mountain, no one could touch you. I don’t know why we even left.” 

Felwinter didn’t answer, he just kept forward, focusing on walking and not falling into the snow. 

“You can’t pick sides, Felwinter,” he continued, obviously not finished yet. “Loyalty is what gets you killed out here. I’ve told you this before. If you’re going to survive, you have to be alone.”

His Ghost’s words had a lot of truth to them—like they always did—but he didn’t want to listen. Yes, he was untouchable on Felwinter Peak, but up there he wasn’t doing anything. The Warlords continued to fight and raze helpless villages while he hid at the top of his mountain. He couldn’t continue to do that, to just watch. The world is a complicated place, and until the moment he dies, he’s always going to wonder if he made the right decision and if joining the Iron Lords was a good idea. All he can be sure about is that he made his decision for a reason: to end the fighting one way or another. 

“The Iron Lords will question me,” Felwinter told his Ghost without looking over his shoulder. “They always do that. Not just to me but to everyone after a mission. To think it’s prejudice is just foolish.”

His Ghost stopped in his entirety. Felwinter had to abruptly stopped to stare. His Ghost was staring back at him with an eye that seemed to bore into his soul. 

“So I can’t convince you not to go back?”

“No.”

His Ghost released a heavy sigh, tilting up to stare at the stars above them. “Great. We’re going to be killed...”

Felwinter had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes at his Ghost’s dramatic conclusion. “We’re going to be killed.” Thats always his final proclamation about something.

“Fine, fine. We’ll go back,” his Ghost continued, snapping back to reality. “But first, you have to tell me who’s on your ‘list.’”

“And if I don’t?”

His Ghost froze with an expression that he could only read ‘as what, is he actually refusing me? Does he even have that ability?’ “Well, I probably won’t transmit your sparrow.” His Ghost was quickly back to his normal self. “So have fun walking all the way back to the City.”

Now it was Felwinter’s turn to freeze, first in surprise, then in anger. It was moments like these when he really hated his Ghost and the power he has over him.

“Come on, tell me. We’ve all been waiting,” his Ghost spiraled in a circle, motioning to the empty trees surrounding them. 

The truth was, he didn’t have a definite list yet. Since his sudden revelation, he hasn’t had any time to really think about it. All he has right now are the top names in Citan’s hierarchy. 

“Sheir, Dion, Hecate, Hjallkar, Kazimir, and Kodiak,” Felwinter quickly listed, hoping it was enough to satisfy his Ghost. 

Of course, it wasn’t. 

“Ok. Now let’s go through this a little slower. Kazimir And Kodiak, the Sunbreaker twins?” His Ghost repeated. “Alright, how are you going to take them out? They’re both huge—easily twice your size—so tell me, how?”

Kazimir and Kodiak were Citan’s guards, soldiers, and closest friends. He would always see the three of them talking and try to listen in on what they said. The three of them had big plans for Old Russia. Most of Citan’s plans and attacks were carried out by Kazimir and Kodiak. They were the definition of loyal and would do anything for Citan.

“Kazimir is easy,” he answered. “He’s always been all bark no bite. As for Kodiak, I’ll have to find a way to surprise him. He’s too strong to fight head on and he undoubtedly has an army of his own by now.” 

“What about Hjallkar,” his Ghost went down the list of names Felwinter had given him.

Hjallkar was Citan’s mastermind. He can fight but he’d rather safely watch from behind walls. Hjallkar’s mind is dark and evil, no question about it, for the attacks he helped Citan plan. “Easier than Pallas,” he answered. 

“Dion,” he threw out another name. 

Dion was a tricky one. From what he’s heard over the years, Dion disappeared not long after he split from Citan. He’s a cruel, cloaked killer, and prefers listening to speaking. Every time there’s a mysterious murder, he like to think it’s Dion doing the only thing he does well.

“I’ll have to find him if he doesn’t find me first” he answered. “But I can take him on in hand-to-hand combat. His knives and other weapons are his lifeline, but they can be taken away.” 

“And Sheir,” he demanded.

Sheir was just like Dion. Sheir was once Citan’s go to assassin. There was some kind of disagreement between the three and Sheir was demoted to a scout. Felwinter doesn’t have a clue what the argument was about, and at this point it doesn’t matter. Sheir kills for fun, tormenting his victims for weeks on end until one day he finally takes the shot and ends their suffering. 

“Sheir’s good with weapons, but he’s foolish. If I can sneak up on him or find a way to hide, maybe he’ll walk right into me.” I answered. 

“But Hecate,” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. “Why her?” 

Felwinter shook his head. “Out of all of them, she was the closest one to Citan. She used that as a weapon. You’ve seen what she does both inside and outside of Citan’s ranks.” 

“Hm,” his Ghost got quiet. “Well, I hope you won’t let your emotions get the better of you.”

“I’m not as naive as you think I am,” Felwinter snapped. “Now spawn in my sparrow. I told you my targets.”

“Fine.”

His sparrow, grey and unpainted, was transmatted before him in a beam of blue energy, floating just above the snow. He reached up and grabbed the sparrow by the handles, pulling it to his side so he could get on and place his boots on the pedals. The sparrow radiated heat from its engine, warming up his freezing body, which Felwinter hadn’t even realized was cold. The warmth only caused him to shiver. 

The journey back to the City would be long. An inescapable, five hour journey at the least, with his only company being his Ghost. But his Ghost wasn’t the only problem. They would be cutting through the territories of multiple Warlords and come within shooting distance of several civilizations. Their safest bet was traveling through Gornaya Tropa; or, Mountain Pass. The journey would be extended by a few hours, but it would be safer. 

Gornaya Tropa is a narrow strip of neutral land running through Old Russia. Many people use it to travel to and from civilizations safely. Some Warlords even guard their section of Gornaya Tropa to ensure safe travel. Their reasons for guarding it are mostly for selfish reasons, but nonetheless, it’s the closest thing the Warlords of Old Russia have to a peaceful agreement. Even then, it’s still not safe enough for him. He’ll have to cut through undetected. 

“Uh... Now would probably be a good time to tell you that the Iron Lords have been trying to get into contact with you.”

“What?” Felwinter nearly tipped off his sparrow. He rebalanced himself and tilted his head up to see his Ghost. “For how long?”

“Since Citan still walked the Earth.”

“Really?” He sighed. This couldn’t be good... “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His Ghost flinched, momentarily taken aback by his distressed tone of voice. “Yeah, sure, get mad at me for not wanting to interrupt,” he muttered and vanished in a cloud of energy.

Him and his Ghost both knew that wasn’t true. His Ghost didn’t tell him because he didn’t want him talking to the Iron Lords or even going back at all. 

“Are they trying to get in touch right now?” Felwinter asked, sitting up straight on his sparrow. 

“‘Trying,’” the Ghost said, still invisible. 

Felwinter exhaled, “then put them through.” 

A mixture of anticipation and worry began to rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it back down. He shouldn’t be scared. They’re the Iron Lords. They’re not killers. At least, that’s what he knows. But what about what he doesn’t know? The Iron Lords couldn’t have survived this long without perma-killing. It’s necessary. Risen can come back infinitely if they aren’t silenced from the source of their life: their Ghosts. And most Risen, from Felwinter’s experience, don’t easily change their minds. 

“Are you sure?” His Ghost asked with a long, drawn out sigh. “Now, before you go hysterical, know I’m trying to protect you, because I can see who’s on the other end.”

“Just put them through already,” he snapped and the channel suddenly clicked on, followed by static. 

“Felwinter? Felwinter!” His Ghost broadcasted the voice of someone who did not sound too happy. 

“I can hear you,” Felwinter said. “Who’s this?”

The voice got quieter, speaking to someone away from the device, then returned at an amplified volume. “Where have you been? We expected you back hours ago!” 

Felwinter was still trying to put together who he was talking with. There were many Iron Lords, and new ones every other week. He really only knew one Iron Lord, and this wasn’t him. 

“I’ve been—“

“With all due respect, Lord Saladin,” Felwinter’s Ghost cut in. “The travel time had us arriving in five hours by sparrow. That gave us a short amount of time with Citan before we needed to come back, which takes another five hours.” The drone flashed into view again and gave Felwinter a look. “We wouldn’t be back until next morning at the earliest.” 

Lord Saladin. Of all Iron Lords, of course he’s the one contacting them. Saladin doesn’t trust him at all. Well, Saladin doesn’t exactly trust anyone other than Lord Radegast, but he seems to dislike the fact that Felwinter was once a Warlord, and constantly tries to find evidence that he’s a traitor.

“This route has been planned for months. We left you enough time to check up with us once you got there and before you left,” Saladin argued. “So what took so long for you to at least communicate?” 

Felwinter hesitated. His Ghost watched him and angrily jabbed him in the side to get him to speak. Felwinter finally began, “I can’t say at the moment. Once I get back to the City, I’ll brief you all on what happened.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Saladin stated. “After hours of waiting fo find out if you’re still alive, that answer is not acceptable.”

Well, it’s going to have to be acceptable. 

“Stay where you are. We have a team coming to pick you up.”

“That’s highly unnecessary,” Felwinter said. “I’m heading back right now.”

“It’s not negotiable,” Saladin was no longer listening to what he had to say. “We expect that you stay where you are and have your Ghost boost a signal to your location.” 

With that, the communication and the static that came with it ended, leaving the two of them in the silence of night. 

“You, uh,” his Ghost started, drifting closer to his shoulder. “Still want to go back now?”


	4. Chapter 4

It took only a few minutes for the ship sent for him to appear over the horizon. Deep green and rust brown, the colors of the Iron Banner, shone in the sunlight that reflected off the ship. 

It approached without descending to a lower altitude and Felwinter glanced angrily at his Ghost. He’d suspected that the drone wouldn’t boost the signal, however, when the ship passed him overhead, it came back around, circling around him before it landed a few meters away. 

“Your hearse has arrived,” his Ghost dryly commented. 

Felwinter only graced the drone with a glare before he stepped across the clearing towards the ship. The ship was still running, its engines blowing up snow all around him. He pushed himself through it to get behind the ship, finding that the hold was already open, the ramp extended. At the top of the ramp, a Risen clad in intricate, golden armor stood with his sword sheathed. Lord Saladin... Of all Iron Lords.

“Didn’t he say a team was coming,” Felwinter mumbled to his Ghost as he stepped up to the bottom of the ramp. 

“Apparently Saladin’s the team,” his Ghost mumbled back.

Saladin watched him with cold eyes from the top of the ramp. “It’s only you,” he said.

“Who else were you expecting,” Felwinter asked. He walked up the ramp, right up to where Saladin was blocking the way. 

“I was expecting Citan to be with you. He was the whole reason you were sent here,” Saladin said. 

“There was a complication,” Felwinter stated plainly and passed Saladin. He was slim enough, even with his heavy coat and armored plating, to fit between the Iron Lord and the wall. Saladin stared after him with a look of irritation. 

This was going to be a long flight...

“There wasn’t a complication if there wasn’t a negotiation in the first place,” Saladin said, staring at Felwinter as he manually retracted the ramp and closed the back of the ship. 

Felwinter narrowed his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at the Iron Lord. He was getting tired of Saladin. “Why are you so sure, Saladin? You weren’t even there.”

Saladin took a moment to glance at the cockpit to make sure no one else was listening, then he spoke quietly. “I don’t have to be there to know your meeting with Citan was for a different reason.” He took a threatening step closer, “with how eager you were to negotiate with Citan, it’s almost as if there’s a connection between the two of you.”

Felwinter didn’t move or give Saladin the satisfaction he wanted in cornering him in the hold. He remained where he stood, tipping his chin up to meet the Iron Lord’s suspecting eyes. “I’ve never spoken to or seen Citan before the negotiation tonight.”

That’s what he told the Iron Lords. That’s what he had to tell them. If there was any evidence of a previous relation, they would have never let him go alone. He might not have even been aloud to go at all. They don’t trust him enough for that. 

“That’s a lie,” Saladin frowned. “You’re working for him, feeding him information about us. You think no one notices how you behave, but I do.“

Felwinter was left dumbfounded with Saladin’s accusations. His words just sounded ridiculous and illogical. Working with Citan? Please... If Saladin knew anything about him, he’d know that working with Citan was the last thing he’d ever want to do. But Saladin didn’t know anything about him, and if he ever bothered to ask, Felwinter probably wouldn’t tell him.

He returned his eyes forward, refusing to look at Saladin. “Think what you want,” he said.

Saladin looked away too, and for the rest of the ride back to the City, the hold was completely silent. Saladin stood guard, watching him for several moments until he gave up and entered the cockpit to talk with the pilot, leaving Felwinter alone. His Ghost was silent too, not saying a word even when Saladin left the hold. So Felwinter sat in silence, waiting until they arrived back at the City.

It was a relief when he could see their destination in the skies before them, marked by a huge orb in the sky, the Traveler. That orb, as dormant as it is now, is immensely important. It’s seen as anything from an advanced alien AI to a deity. Felwinter wasn’t alive to see the gifts it granted humanity or how it sacrificed itself when the Darkness closed in, but he can still feel the power, the history, of the Traveler just by looking at it, but that could be for a different reason. 

The Traveler is also what created the Ghosts, which in extension, brought the Risen back to life, so it makes sense the Iron Lords would stay here. And honestly, he gets this surreal feeling every time he sees it. Ever since Felwinter was reborn, he’s felt a pull from deep inside of him. He knows now that the pull was the Traveler calling. Everyone could feel it, even non-Risen, but only the lucky ones answered. Most were trapped in their cities by Warlords. Fo this day, he can’t understand why any Warlord would willingly ignore the pull. It must feel like an bottomless pit, eating away at them with no end in sight. 

The hold of the ship opened and the ramp extended to the ground. Saladin stood and ordered him to follow (as if he had any authority over Felwinter) and he followed, biting back a nasty comment. 

From the landing pads, it wasn’t long before he was led through the City and into the large, wooden structure, reinforced with stone pillars. This building was used for debriefings and the occasional interrogation, but he had a feeling the latter was about to go down. He wasn’t worried about it. He had rehearsed what he was going to say. If the Iron Lords didn’t believe him, and worse came to worst, then he would fight his way out of there, Light in hand, to escape. In that situation, his Ghost would finally get his way. They’d return to the mountains never to be seen again. 

“Go inside,” Saladin stepped up to stand parallel to the wall and gestured at the double doors. 

Felwinter stepped forward and pushed through the doors. The room was well lit with interior lanterns, having no windows to allow in natural light. In the center of the room there was a circular table. On the far side, Lord Radegast, Perun, And Jolder, now joined by Saladin, sat across from a singular chair, obviously meant for him. Felwinter took his seat, and the debriefing began. 

“Lord Felwinter,” Lord Radegast began, his voice formal. “A week ago, Citan, the Warlord of the 22nd sector of Russia, came to our attention. After several discussions and attempts to reach Citan, a negotiation was agreed upon and you offered to meet with him. Despite our arguments, you insisted on going alone and we allowed it.“

“Yesterday, when you hadn’t reported in for hours on end, Lord Saladin contacted you. However, he failed to properly debrief you,” Lord Radegast said with a glance at Saladin. Saladin’s shoulders slumped. 

Lord Radegast’s gaze panned back to Felwinter’s “So, I believe the best course of action now, having no knowledge of what happened, is for you to give us your account and for us to question you from there.”

Felwinter met each of the Iron Lord’s eyes. They all were watching him silently, waiting for his explanation. He wouldn’t be able to leave the room without one. The Iron Lords have been waiting hours for this, and they deserve to hear something. It won’t be the truth, but they wouldn’t understand his true motivation to kill Citan and why the Warlord was better off dead. 

“I arrived just as planned,” Felwinter began, his voice quieter than his usual tone due to the four pairs of eyes staring at him. “Citan greeted me at the door. He had been waiting for me outside, and approached. At the time, I had planned to send an update right then and there, but Citan came up to me, and I made the decision to send the message after the negotiation.”

He paused, looking at the Iron Lords again. Lord Radegast and Perun were unreadable, Jolder was listening intently, and he could feel the negative emotions in the air surrounding Saladin. 

“He led me inside his stronghold to a central chamber with a table for us to sit down. We weren’t even seated yet when he snapped. The table was overturned by fists crackling with Arc Light and Citan lunged at me. He got a hold of me, but I broke away, only to be grappled by a solider that had been hiding in the hall.”

Felwinter paused to find the word he was looking for. “It was an ambush,” he said. “And I walked straight into it.”

All four Iron Lords were silent with looks of shock on their faces. Even Saladin looked shocked. 

“An ambush?” Lady Perun whispered. She glanced to Radegast.

Lord Radegast was watching Felwinter as he reported, but at the mention of an ambush, his face turned somber. “We shouldn’t have let you go alone,” he said sternly, but through the sternness, Felwinter could feel heavy emotions radiating from his leader. The Iron Lord felt personally responsable for the “ambush” that hadn’t happened.

“Why’d we even let him go alone?” Jolder asked, leaning forward. 

“He said that it would be easier that way,” Lady Perun answered. “A level of trust would exist in a one to one meeting, especially between a Warlord and Ex-Warlord. So that’s why we allowed him to go solo.”

He had said that. It had taken days to convince the Iron Lords to let him go alone, but in the end, they allowed it. That was the important part: If they allowed it, that means he didn’t have to sneak off to do it himself and that there was little they could be suspicious about. Although, they still find a way to be suspicious... Some of them at least...

Felwinter continued. “I fought them off. Most of his soldiers ran the moment they saw Void Light leap from my hands, but the few who stayed only did so long enough to see why the others had ran.  
Citan wasn’t so easily spooked. He and I fought, each trying to gain the upper hand, but in the end, I was victorious and Citan was dead.”

The words hung in the air. For a long while, no one spoke, but Felwinter knew they were thinking. They were already blaming him for the death, no matter how he tries to convince them. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Felwinter lied, lowering his eyes in a feigned expression of sorrow.

Lady Jolder looked like she was about to stand and walk over to comfort him, but before she could, a different voice broke the silence.

“Wasn’t that the plan all along?” Saladin’s asked. 

Radegast glared at him, opening his mouth to speak but Felwinter was quick to respond to Saladin’s challenge. “I didn’t plan to be ambushed. I didn’t plan to be nearly killed. When it happened, I did what I had to do. I believe you would’ve done the same.” 

Saladin anger slightly subsiding but he still frowned at Felwinter. 

Radegast turned from Saladin to Felwinter. “If we had known Citan’s plans, we wouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I offered to go,” Perun stated before turning to the other Iron Lords. “Who else did?”

“I did,” Jolder said.

“That’s what I don’t get,” Saladin cut in, lifting a hand to gesture at him. “He refused to have a second, and now we’re finding out Citan’s dead.”

“If he was ambushed, then it was self defense,” Jolder spoke up against Saladin. “Are you going to blame him for self defense?”

“He’s obviously hiding something,” Saladin’s voice lowered, dropping its argumentative edge with Jolder. 

“I agree partially with Saladin,” Perun said, her eyes meeting Felwinter’s. “There’s evidence that implies history between you and Citan. Such as the fact you haven’t been assigned to any other negotiation.”

“And you’re 0 for 1 as far as negotiations go,” Saladin commented, receiving a glare from Jolder who was doing her best to try and defend him. Felwinter wished she wouldn’t. It felt bad to lie to her, and felt worse that she believed it. 

“Did you know Citan?” Radegast asked, quieting the others.

“No,” he answered. A slight quiver rippled down his spine at the Iron Lord’s serious tone. 

Radegast’s brow furrowed. “Did you plan to kill Citan.”

“No.”

“Did you offer to negotiate for different reasons?”

“No.”

“Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Felwinter paused.

“That’s a little unfair,” Jolder murmured. 

“Let him answer,” Perun threw a look at Jolder. 

“I’m telling you everything,” Felwinter answered. “I wanted to use my past experiences to benefit the Iron Lords and get Citan to understand why he should turn over his territory, but it backfired. If I was there for any other reason, I wouldn’t have come back.”

Radegast stared at him for what seemed like ages until he spoke. “That’s all I need to hear from you. You’re free to leave.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re letting him off like that?!” 

Felwinter did his best to ignore Lord Saladin’s protests as he exited through the double doors of the debriefing building. Before Felwinter was even two steps out the door, he heard his name called from the outside wall. He recognized the man’s voice immediately, and he wasn’t surprised either. He knew he’d jump at an opportunity to speak with him. 

“Lord Timur,” Felwinter turned halfway, looking over his shoulder just in time to see the Iron Lord pushing off the wall he leaned against and walking towards him. 

“Lord Felwinter, welcome back,” he nodded his head in greeting. “I’m sorry you had to come back to such hostility,” he apologized. 

“Why are you sorry?” Felwinter asked. He had to admit, it felt nice to have someone, especially one of the Iron Lords, apologize for their ill-treatment of him. But at the same time, Timur’s apology annoyed him in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp. It felt meager, diminutive, nothing different from the plain greeting Timur had given him just before. 

“I tried to get the meeting called off,” Timur explained. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that first-thing. Not after your ordeal.”

Of course. Not a minute after the meeting and Timur already knows everything about it. Did he expect anything different from Timur? The man was obsessed with knowledge and discovery. Although, this time, the information was false and it seemed as if Timur believed it. But, as per usual, Timur’s mind is unreadable. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Felwinter replied with a hint of anger. “The meeting,” he clarified. 

Felwinter turned his shoulder to Timur and continued his walk, nowhere specific, just anywhere away from here. He didn’t want to talk to Timur or anyone for that matter. He wanted to be by himself. However, he didn’t need a sixth sense to know that Timur wasn’t going to let him be alone. 

Timur picked up his pace to catch up with Felwinter and slowed to fall into step with him. “As expected,” he paused, searching for something to say because Felwinter was obviously not going to start a conversation. “How was the trip there? I heard you took it by Sparrow.” 

“It was fine,” Felwinter answered with a sigh, narrowing his eyes at him. He wished the Iron Lord would just get on with what he actually wanted to say. He highly doubted that the Iron Lord’s intentions were to waste time strolling around the City talking about information that doesn’t matter anymore.

Timur hesitated a moment. Maybe he could sense Felwinter’s annoyance with the small talk, maybe not, but he switched his focus to different matters. “I understand you just came back, but there’s this place I want to take you.” 

“I’m guessing it has to do with Warminds.”

Timur gave a brief smile. “It does. I’ve been digging through the files we uncovered in the last lab, and I believe I’ve discovered the coordinates of a vault.” Timur’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he explained it and his true excitement leaked through his voice. “This could be a huge find. I doubt it’s the Warmind, or any Sub-Mind, but anything Clovis Bray related is more than welcome.” He paused, remembering that Felwinter hadn’t agreed to going yet. “What do you say?”

What do I say? Felwinter stopped in the middle of the street. Beside him, Timur stopped too. “Are we leaving right now?”

“If you’re up for it,” he said excitedly.

“It’s kind of late,” Felwinter commented, panning his gaze through the shadowy streets. 

Timur shrugged it off. “It’s better to leave late. We’ll get there when it’s light enough to see.”

It wasn’t that Felwinter didn’t want to go with him because, if the circumstances were different, he’d be going. However, he still had the receiver from Citan’s stronghold tucked into his coat and he needed to make sure it worked. “I’m kind of tired,” Felwinter attempted to send him off. 

Timur pressed, ignoring his attempt. “There’s a space in the back of my jumpship for you to rest before we get there.”

“It would be better for me to stay here so I can catch up on things.”

“You were only gone a day,” Timur pointed out. “I could catch you up on things.”

“No, I...”

Felwinter could feel the Iron Lord reaching out to him, not physically but mentally, to try and find out why he was being so withdrawn. Timur’s eyes flickered back, possibly sensing something through Felwinter’s mental barriers.

“Alright.” He nodded with a hint of disappointment. “But we could always go in the morning,” he gave it one last shot. 

“I don’t think so,” he said. 

“A shame, but it’s your choice, as always.” Timur stepped backwards, changing directions. “I don’t know when we’ll speak again, but we’ll talk then, and maybe something will change.” He gave me one final glance with the all-knowing eyes of a clairvoyant. 

Timur left, walking back the way they’d came. He was heading in the direction of the Iron Haven, the large building constructed for the Iron Lords to live within. Everyone from the leader of the Iron Lords, Lord Radegast, to the newest recruits, Lord Colovance, had a place there. Even he had a room there. In fact, he should probably be heading in that direction now. 

He turned to follow far behind Timur down the dark streets of the City. There wasn’t a soul out and about at this hour, which felt unusual for the City. Usually, people are always out walking, talking, and working, and being social during the day. To see no one moving around at night was a little unsettling, and he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder every few heartbeats to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Blame it on old habits. 

He didn’t have to walk, just down a row of buildings which curved around a corner. At the end there was a rather large structure that towered over the other smaller stores and homes. The Iron Haven. It was just put up recently by the City’s citizens and overseen by Lord Silimar of course. 

Felwinter stepped up the stone walkway and up to the door. He walked through it, into the shade of the Iron Haven. This building was three floors. More than enough for every member of the Iron Lords and their Ghosts to have separate rooms with space in between them all. Silimar always dreams high and plans ahead. Silimar considers that a good trait but Felwinter thinks he should bring his mind back to the present. There’s not going to be any more Iron Lords to fill those rooms if they don’t take down the Warlords before they plot against them.

Felwinter grabbed the railing and went upstairs. His room was on the second floor. He’s been trying to think of why it be strategic to place him there. Maybe it’s so he can’t sneak out at night without going downstairs, but that wouldn’t keep him from sliding out a window. Or maybe he’s just thinking too hard into it. There’s no specific reason to have him in a certain place. If he expressed distaste in the placement of my room they would probably move me wherever he wanted. That’s just who the Iron Lords are.

A snort-like noise from my Ghost broke into his thoughts as he neared the door to his room. He tilted his head up to see him levitating above his shoulder.

“What is it,” his voice came out with a snap. 

“That whole interrogation. You got off easy,” he commented. 

“That conversation doesn’t mean they forget anything,” he responded quickly, stepping up to his closed door and swinging it open. “It doesn’t change how they see me.” 

Felwinter stepped inside the room. This was his second time seeing it. The first had been when he was given a tour of this place. Since then, it’s stayed entirely the same. The walls are a basic wooden color and the floor is uneven in some areas. The furniture has stayed the exact same too. There’s one bed pushed up against the wall, a desk and chair on the opposite end, and a rack for both armor and weapons. It’s nothing special. 

He walked over to the bed and slipped his hand into his coat to grab a hold of the receiver. He pulled it out and slid his coat off his shoulders. He threw the coat on the bed and sat down beside it, receiver in hand.

Felwinter flicked the switch in both directions, waiting for static, but received none. He twisted the receiver in his hands, trying to look for anything they could cause the disruption. On the outside, the device looked undamaged, but it could be damaged inside. Receivers were powered by electrical wires, if they were cut off, the entire device would fail. 

“Woah, hold on,” the drone scoffed. “You obviously don’t get what I’m saying.”

“Yes I do,” he argued, directing most of his attention to the old receiver. “You always criticize everything. All the time.” 

That made him laugh. “No, I was actually going to mention how you’re starting to fit in.”

Felwinter went silent, focusing harder on the receiver.

“They’re starting to see you as one of them,” he continued. “Despite the... uh, many differences. So that means you’re doing something right, whatever that may be.”

“Possibly,” I hesitated. “But doubtful. They didn’t question me any more because they think they know everything they need to know. They’re probably talking about it right now.” 

“My Traveler, you need to work on your positivity,” he mumbled. “Did I really raise you this way?”

“You know the answer to your own question,” Felwinter pushed anger into his voice. 

For a moment he thought he’d say something else, but the drone backed off, muttering something unintelligible.


	6. Chapter 6

He’d been working all night with the device, but still nothing. It didn’t pick up signals or even turn on. This device was the only thing he picked up from Citan’s stronghold. If it failed that meant he had to go back for something else to lead him to Citan’s chain of command. Felwinter really didn’t want to have to do that. 

He set the receiver on the bed beside him, thinking it was about time he got some rest. He closed his eyes, nearly falling into recharge before he heard knuckles rap on the outside of his door. Instantly, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and sat up just in time to see the door swing open. A female face peeked into the crack in the door then, seeing that he was awake, opened it a bit more. 

“Hey Fel,” Lady Jolder greeted him with a grin. 

“Jolder,” he twitched uncomfortably at the nickname she gave him but he still greeted her.

It was nice to see a friendly face for once. Jolder’s always the first to charge on the battlefield so it would make sense for her to be the first one to approach. She was one of the first Iron Lords that has gone out of their way to get to know Felwinter (even though she’ll never know everything.) That’s just who she is. Not long after he first joined up with the Iron Lords and the rumors began to spread about who he is and what he’s plotting, she embraced him with open arms and even asked for him to come train with her. She’s the one responsable for many of his new techniques.

“You’ve been up here since you got back!” She exclaimed. 

“It was a long trip,” Felwinter said. 

“Come on,” she stepped into his room. 

Felwinter slowly but swiftly tucked the receiver back into the inside of his folded coat before she saw it. He’d fix the device later. 

“You’re really should come outside,” she said. “Some Risen are training with Saladin. Efrideet and I are going to be there, you should come with us.”

“I don’t know,” Felwinter was trying to find a good reason not to go but just couldn’t find one that wasn’t too obvious. 

“You don’t have to train,” she shifted her weight. “You can always just stand there and look tough.”

“Exactly how I want to be spending my morning,” his voice was tinted with sarcasm. 

“Alright, how about you just go and get a little fresh air and forget about things?” She crossed her arms in front of her.

He struggled for an excuse but stopped. He kind of wanted to go. It’s not anything important, it’s training, but still. It’s something other than sitting here and messing with a receiver that he can’t get working. 

“Come on,” she raised her voice again, all smiles. “You’re coming anyway. I’ll carry you if you want!”

“I’ll come if you don’t do that.” He pushed off the bed and stood, leaving his heavy winter coat and the receiver tucked inside it behind. 

She snapped her fingers, a pretend look of disappointment on her face. “Dang. I thought I was going to get to drag you there!” 

“Neither of us would enjoy that,” he stepped away from the bed and towards Jolder. She backed out of the room and began down the hall and to the stairs.

“Skorri, come with us!” Jolder called into the main room once she reached the stairs, taking them down two at a time. 

Felwinter went down the stairs after Jolder. As he descended, he could see into the main room and spotted Skorri. She sat cross-legged on a cushioned sofa, her journal in hand. 

“Leave me alone! Can’t you see that I’m writing!” She flicked a hand at them, not looking up. 

“Ugh,” Jolder jumped off the last step, cracking the new floor beneath her. “Why is everyone so boring today?”

“You tell me,” Skorri joked. “I’m just the one writing a song about them all!”

Jolder easily strode across the ground floor and reached the entrance. She turned her head back to look at Skorri. “You’ll join us later, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Skorri answered absently, most likely unaware of what Jolder had asked. 

Jolder looked satisfied with the answer anyway and exited the door, holding it open for Felwinter as he walked out. 

“Hey, got everyone I could,” Jolder greeted to a Risen leaning against the wall. The Risen pushed off and approached them. 

“Good. I haven’t seen you in forever,” she directed at Felwinter. 

It took a second for Felwinter to recognize Efrideet. The Iron Lady wore a different cloak, an almost pure white cloak with several black lines on the back stretching out to form branches. Her armor was also slightly different and less worn than her previous set. 

“I haven’t either,” Felwinter said, trying to push down his naturally suspicious tone. 

Efrideet is almost never here. She’s always off somewhere she hasn’t told anyone she’s going, which is funny because the second he did the same thing, questions are raised. Every time she returns she brings something new with her, mostly in the form of armor. She still refuses to tell the Iron Lords where she goes, but at least we can guess where she’s been based on what she takes back. 

“How was the mission,” Efrideet looked over her shoulder at him. “I got back not too long ago but I heard you went on one.”

“It was highly unsuccessful,” Felwinter reported. “The Warlord was killed in an unplanned scuffle.”

“An ambush actually, didn’t you say?” Jolder added. “Yeah, he got there and an ambush was already waiting. That’s crazy! I wish I had been there. I would’ve so roughed them up!”

Felwinter glanced at Jolder as she spoke. A small feeling of guilt twinged inside of him. She’s a friend of mine, a good friend of mine, and I lied to her. What makes it worse is she really believes him. She wouldn’t have told Efrideet if she didn’t think it was the truth. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Efrideet commented. “How’d you guys get out of their? Sounds like a hell of a story.”

“It was just me,” he answered honestly. “There wasn’t a second.”

“Oh—that’s right,” Efrideet shook her head. “I forgot we all agreed to that. Damn. I’m glad you were able to fight out of that. If anyone could, it’s you.” 

“Hey Efrideet,” Jolder was quick to cut in. “How was your mission?”

Lady Efrideet stiffened suddenly. “Mission? I didn’t have a—“ she paused, rolling her eyes. “You’re so funny, Jolder.”

“You afraid to answer my question,” Jolder asked, grinning.

“I’m not afraid,” Efrideet shook her head. “I wasn’t anywhere I shouldn’t have been.”

“Then where were you,” Felwinter decided to enter the conversation, unintentionally tripping up Efrideet. 

“Uh,” she hesitated. “Around, just around. Y’know?” 

“Y’know,” Jolder mimicked her but quickly grew serious. “We’re all very worried about you.”

“What, really?! No you’re not, you shouldn’t be worrying. It’s nothing you guys need to worry about. It’s nothing,” she assured. “Sometimes we all need a little alone-time. It’s really nothing.” 

“Yeah,” Jolder sighed, still watching her through concerned eyes. “I guess we do.”

There’s a lot of differences when it comes to Felwinter and the rest of the Iron Lords, but it’s hard not to see a similarity between him and Efrideet. She’s hiding something, it’s obvious. Wherever she goes she doesn’t want anyone knowing about it. She could be a malicious spy or she could be innocently visiting a friend or significant other. Whatever it is, she’s hiding it, same as he is. He’s keeping his assassination plans from the Iron Lords and she’s keeping her destinations from the Iron Lords.

“Oh, there they are!” Jolder picked up her pace through the streets. 

Up ahead there was a roar of Light and a bright orange flash followed by a pained grunt. Another bright flash, then an explosion. 

The sounds put Felwinter on high alert. He felt himself grow tense between Efrideet and Jolder, and could feel his Light pushing up against his palms. He held it back and tried to relax. Those aren’t the sounds of war, they’re the sounds of training. No one here is going to attack him without confirmation from him. 

“Come on. Right through here,” Jolder stepped up into the courtyard where the training was taking place. She stood back, far enough from the crowd so she could see over them, and waited for Efrideet and Felwinter to catch up. 

The courtyard was large enough to hold a training session without the risks of anything catching fire from the Light of Risen. Dozens of citizens, Risen and non-Risen alike, stood far back along the perimeter, forming a ring around the session. The people stayed farther back than usual, giving these Risen plenty of room to fight, and for good reason. Both the fighting Risen were lit up in searing flames, attacking each other with everything they had. 

Felwinter easily picked out Saladin in the fight. Saladin was up in the air, lifting himself high above the other Risen. He heaved his flaming hammer above his head as he fell back down. He slammed the hammer on the opposing Risen’s head. The Risen’s neck snapped painfully backwards before the flames engulfed his body, turning him to ashes in the wind. 

Felwinter felt a chill pass by as he saw how easily Saladin finished off his opponent, but he pushed back the fear. Saladin has never seen him fight. He would surely underestimate him in a fight. 

Saladin lowered himself back to the ground, the last dying flames sill hanging to his shoulders as he watched for his opponent to be revived. Some members of the crowd cheered while others gasped a little, unsure if cheering was the right thing to do at the Risen’s temporary death. 

“Let’s get a front row seat for the next one,” Jolder didn’t want before she started pushing her way through the crowd.

“And she’s off again,” Efrideet chuckled a little but followed her through, waving for Felwinter to follow. 

Just as they reached the front, the Risen was already standing, helped to his feet by Saladin. This close, Felwinter could see the man’s face. The man’s skin was a faded blue, the sign of an Awoken. The man nodded wordlessly at Saladin and stepped to take his place on the sidelines, having lost the fight. 

“Who’s the Awoken,” Efrideet asked, watching him through the corner of her eye. 

“That’s Zavala,” Jolder answered.

“Saladin’s apprentice?”

Jolder shrugged. “I don’t think he is yet, but it’s going to happen sometime in the near future. Zavala’s the strongest trainee here besides Shaxx.” She leaned in close, whispering to both of them. “I’m going to try and convince Saladin to take them both on as apprentices.” 

“I hope I don’t ever have to get an apprentice,” Efrideet sounded like she’d tasted something bitter.

“What?! I’m surprised,” Jolder put a hand on her hip. “I can’t wait until I get another one! Bretomart doesn’t need my training anymore.” She glanced at Felwinter. “What about you, Felwinter? Are you for or against an apprentice?”

He looked at her. “I’d take one only if it was necessary.” 

He really hasn’t thought about apprentices yet. He unconsciously assumed that the Iron Lords wouldn’t let him have one, but if he was allowed one then he guesses he’d be fine with one. The only problem is that he doesn’t know any Risen who would be fine with him. 

“I personally think you’d be great,” Jolder said, nudging his shoulder in a friendly manner. Then something in the court caught her attention and she was completely focused on watching again. 

There was another titanous man brought out, facing off with Saladin. This Risen had a trident in his hands. An interesting weapon, definitely not one you see thrown around a lot. Saladin still carries his sword, one made specially for Iron Lords. This match was going to focus on the use of weapons, not Light. 

The Risen attacked first, charging with the spiked end of his trident pointed for Saladin’s throat. The Iron Lord raised his sword, fighting off the attack as if it was nothing. The Risen stepped to the side and threw himself behind Saladin, flipping around to face him. Saladin spun towards him, raising his sword. The Risen jumped again, this time out of range. His eyes snapped back to Saladin, drifting sideways to follow him. 

The Risen swung back his trident, preparing to crack it over Saladin’s head. In the fraction of a second before he did, his eyes met Felwinter’s in the crowd. He froze mid swing as he stared at him. The Risen’s eyes grew troubled in a way that looked like he was trying to picture where he’s seen him before. Then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. The Risen dropped the trident and backed away, tripping over himself. He fell to the ground and bellowed out a terrified scream, eyes still locked on Felwinter. 

Everyone in the courtyard was pin-drop silent as the Risen’s screams echoed. “Get him away from me,” he screamed, crawling backwards. “Get him away!”


	7. Chapter 7

Felwinter was stunned, unable to move for a moment. Part of him was confused to why this Risen—a Risen he had never seen—was screaming at him, while the other part was furious at him. 

This is exactly what he needed right now. Just perfect. He can’t even walk around without a mess. 

“We should get you away from here while he’s taken care of.” Jolder took a step in front of me to block him from the accusing stares of the surrounding people. “Efrideet, go with him?” 

Efrideet nodded and they both spun around to come back the way we came. He was prepared to push his way back through the crowd but wasn’t surprised when he saw that everyone who had been behind him wasn’t there anymore. They’d all moved several meters away, far out of his range.

“What was that about,” Efrideet whispered as they headed back to the Haven.

He shook his head, still processing what had happened. 

“He seems really terrified of you,” Efrideet’s words got quieter as if there was something else she wanted to say.

“No, I don’t know him,” Felwinter answered the question he could sense forming in her mind. “I don’t even recognize him.” 

Efrideet began to prod him for answers. “So why would he act like that in front of a whole crowd of people? It seems like he knows you from somewhere.”

He glanced at her wordlessly. Usually he knows what to say to defend himself but now he’s unsure. He really don’t recognize the Risen. If he had been in hand-to-hand combat with him in the past he would have remembered his face, his voice, his armor. At least he thought he would. This means that the Risen has seen him before or maybe even heard the things he’s done.

“I’m not trying to accuse you, I’m just saying that it’s strange,” Efrideet quickly explained. “Usually you don’t see Titans break down like that.” 

“Efrideet,” Felwinter looked at her. “I swear I’ve never seen him before.” 

She hesitated, unsure about what he was saying. Eventually, she nodded. “Ok, I’ll believe that you don’t but... That doesn’t mean he doesn’t.” 

Felwinter slowly nodded back, but on the inside, his mind was racing. He returned his eyes forward, following the street as they walked back to the Haven. Everything was about to get worse for him. He’s done some... not so moral things in the past. It’s what he had to do to survive Citan and he doesn’t regret it, however, the Iron Lords will never understand why he did what he did. They will argue that he had the opportunity to leave whenever he wanted, but that’s not the case. 

Felwinter still doesn’t recognize the Risen, and even if he did, it would be better if he said nothing. The Risen remembers him from somewhere, but there’s no way to know where. Only when they’re both inevitably questioned, will he hear the horrors the Risen witnessed. Felwinter won’t be able to tell the Iron Lords the truth. He’ll need to come up with lies. But lies will be hard to make believable when there’s another Risen arguing against him.

Felwinter reached the door first and tore it open, entering the building with Efrideet behind him. His eyes scanned the room to find it empty. Skorri wasn’t where she had been before, she was at the windowsill, looking down the street we had just come from. Now she looked at them, her eyes bright with concern, “I heard screaming.”

For just a second, everything was quiet between the three of them. Efrideet was the first to respond. “Something happened down at the courtyard.” She glanced at Felwinter, prompting Skorri’s eyes to follow.

“Were you two hurt,” Skorri asked, walking toward them.

“No, we’re fine,” Felwinter answered, caught off guard by her concern for them and not what they had done. “There wasn’t any fighting.”

Efrideet nodded. “One of the Risen training with Saladin saw him and freaked,” she added. “He’s telling me he doesn’t recognize him.”

Skorri looked at me, narrowing her eyes in a way that completely contrasted with her kind face. “Do you,” she asked. 

“I don’t remember him at all,” he answered honestly. 

A second after he answered, he could feel something picking at his mind. He immediately knew it was Skorri because of the way she was staring directly at him. She was trying to see inside his mind to find an answer. Fortunately, he has prepared himself for things like this and learned ways to cut off his mind from those sensitive enough to detect his feelings and intentions. She couldn’t reach through his mental barriers, and soon she realized this and stopped.

Just as she stopped, someone entered the door behind them. The three of them stepped out of the way, spinning around to see Gheleon enter with Saladin following right behind him, a smug look on his face.

“What happened to that Risen,” Felwinter was the first to speak, pushing a fake concerned tone into his voice. 

Saladin didn’t answer; He scowled. You know exactly what happened... Saladin’s thoughts were loud enough to hear. 

“Dunno,” Gheleon answered aloud, his eyes in the middle of that disassociated stare he does. “Jolder, Perun, and Radegast stayed behind to question him. So far he’s as quiet as a deadman.”

Saladin suddenly snapped into motion, stepping forward so he was right in front of Felwinter. “You should know very well what’s happening. You did something so horrible to him in the past that just seeing you has brought him to tears! What did you do?”

“I don’t recognize him,” Felwinter held his ground.

Saladin frowned, his nose wrinkling. “No Warlord remembers all their victims.”

He opened his mouth to speak but Efrideet was quicker “Is there anywhere you can remember where he’d be,” her voice matched Saladin’s suspicion. “Despite the violence you may have caused there.”

Felwinter shook his head, thinking. He needed to give an answer. Saying nothing would only make them more suspicious. “Maybe at one of Citan’s villages. Maybe he was in the woods and saw an attack.” 

“How bad of an attack do you think,” Skorri asked, her voice quiet.

“Horrible,” he answered honestly. “The kind of attack where nothing’s left standing. But that’s what happens to villages when they disagree with their Warlord. It is a common occurrence.” Too common. 

“How could you justify that,” Saladin raised his voice to a higher level. “‘That’s what happens?’” How could you justify that?”

“I wasn’t justifying anything,” Felwinter stiffened in an attempt to keep his voice from raising. “That’s the way it is. If anyone disagrees with a Warlord they’ll be killed. I would’ve been killed.”

“You never had to stay,” Saladin argued. “We’ve all dealt with sectors and Warlords but none of us joined up with them!”

There it is. Felwinter was tired of all this. “None of you knew who Citan was.” A momentary chill rose up his back upon mentioning his name. “Once you got caught up there was no escape. I waited years for the perfect chance and I found it. I left the second I could, so how dare you say I could’ve just left.”

Everyone became silent, including Saladin, who glanced away from him, his face still in a deep frown. In fact, it appeared like everyone else was looking away from him too, refusing to meet his eyes. The only Iron Lord looking at him now was Efrideet. 

“How many years,” Efrideet broke the silence. “You never told us you were with him for years.”

Felwinter remained silent. This is exactly why he hates arguing. This is why he always has to control himself. Things slip out when he’s not careful, and now something slipped out that contradicts everything he’s ever told the Iron Lords.

“Long enough,” he began. “Maybe a decade, maybe half a decade. Some years have merged together in my mind.” It surprised Felwinter to hear this out loud. He’s always known how long he’s worked with Citan but never has admitted it aloud. 

“Well that changes things,” Saladin said, bringing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me you spent a decade with a Warlord you didn’t approve of? That’s bullshit!” 

“You weren’t there—“ Felwinter cut himself off as the front door swung open again. 

Three Iron Lords, Lady Jolder, Lady Perun, and Lord Radegast entered the main room. 

Saladin jumped to the side to give them room. “What’s the word,” he asked Radegast. His anger subsided now that the leader of the Iron Lords was here.

“His name is Thane, but he didn’t give us anything other than that,” Radegast answered, his gaze resting on Felwinter.

Thane? That name is familiar... Felwinter’s shoulders tensed and he hoped the others didn’t notice. “Let me talk to him.”

Radegast frowned. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“It seemed to me that he was afraid of what you’d do if you found out he talked to us,” Perun added. 

“I’m not going to harm him,” Felwinter said, his voice lowered. 

“That’s not what he thinks,” she replied.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Jolder shrugged. “We don’t have evidence against Felwinter so far, if Thane didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but we have judgement,” Saladin snapped at Jolder, his voice strangely soft for a snap. “You should too.”

Jolder shook her head, not listening to Saladin. She’s fiercely loyal, that’s her flaw. She sees us all as good friends and can’t stand to see us accusing each other. “You guys are getting all on him for nothing. Felwinter doesn’t recognize him and that Risen, Thane, hasn’t said anything. In reality, you guys are just embarrassing both of them.” 

“I recognize his name,” he finally spoke up. 

Jolder looked over her shoulder at him, a little shocked. He looked back at her. She can’t read minds, but he tried to pass on a message, that he didn’t want to use her friendship to support his lies.

“Go on,” Radegast watched him.

“He was one of Citan’s soldiers,” he explained through the silent stares of the Iron Lords. “At the time, Citan had many, and Thane was lost in the numbers, never to rise to prominence.” he paused, watching their faces. He’s saying too much. “I’ve already said that I’ve done things that I regret, both outside and inside Citan’s ranks. Thane had a reason to be scared of me back then, but he shouldn’t anymore. I’m an Iron Lord, we’re on the same side. Please let me talk to him.”

Radegast shook his head with an unreadable look. “I can’t let you do that. I want you to stay away from Thane.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We can’t afford any more problems.”


	8. Chapter 8

“N-now before you do anything you should k-know that I didn’t say anything! Okay? So you don’t need to do this!” Thane pleaded.

“I’m only here to talk,” Felwinter attempted to calm Thane, but it was unsuccessful.

With a fearful whine, Thane backed into the wall behind him, fully pressing into it. He looked ridiculous. Thane was a ex-solider in Citan’s army. He’s seen war. He shouldn’t be holding back tears at the sight of Felwinter. 

“Hey, I could’ve talked up a storm to those Iron Wolves but I didn’t! I didn’t! They know zero—zilch—of what you haven’t told them yourself, I swear!”

Felwinter stared for a long while at Thane’s clearly terrified face. For how he was acting, Felwinter could of been holding the poor Risen against the wall, but Felwinter hadn’t laid a hand on him yet.

“What is wrong with you,” Felwinter finally said.

Thane tilted his head up at Felwinter. His brow furrowed in thought and he frowned, lips slightly parted. “I know what you’ve done. I know why you’re here.”

“I’m not here to hurt you, I don’t know why or how you started thinking I would,” Felwinter was quick to correct him. “I told you I was here to talk.”

“But why? I barely know you,” Thane asked, whispering the last part with uncertainty. 

You know me enough to cower in my presence, Felwinter thought. He continued. “You were a solider in Citan’s army, correct?”

“No...” Thane hesitated. “Y-Yes. I was, but I’m done with that now.”

“Obviously, if you’re here,” Felwinter said. “When did you leave?”

Thane hesitated once more before he answered, thinking long and hard about what he would say. Finally he began with a shaky inhale. “Not long after you did. T-Things fell apart and I ran the second I could and never looked back.” Thane’s eyes narrowed, fear turning to hostility, “no one here would’ve ever known I was a solider if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m not the one who freaked out,” Felwinter stated, raising his guard as Thane shifted to his feet to stand in front of him. Thane wasn’t much taller than Felwinter, but he was stockier and obviously had alloy-crushing force behind his arms. 

“I freaked out because of you!” Thane snapped, lifting his arms. “And now everyone knows! Now no one can look me in the eyes without seeing some stupid Warlord!”

“How is that my fault,” Felwinter demanded, shooting a quick glance down to watch Thane’s clenched fists. 

“I’ve seen the pain and suffering you’re capable of inflicting! You’re vicious! Cruel! And you’re a monster!”

Monster. The word didn’t faze him at all. It didn’t even mildly offend him. He’s been called much more hateful words. 

“You’ve done things too, I’d imagine,” Felwinter reminded, keeping his voice even. 

“Yeah,” Thane’s voice became fearful again and his eyes flashed with embarrassment. He blinked it away, “B-but you were worse! You were Citan’s personal weapon a-and you let yourself be used!” Thane hesitated, unsure if his words would set Felwinter off. “That’s what makes it so horrible! You knew what was happening and you let it happen! You could’ve stopped, could’ve left Citan’s rule, but you didn’t!” 

Felwinter scowled. “I’d think you of all people would understand how hard it is to leave, but... I suppose you don’t.” Thane is just some random solider. It would be easy for him to slip away unnoticed. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I need you to tell me everything you know about Citan’s chain of command and where they’ve gone.”

“I don’t know,” Thane was whispering again.

“You really can’t tell me anything,” Felwinter asked with an edge to his voice, causing Thane to flinch. 

“I don’t have anything to tell! Please don’t kill me!” Thane cowered. 

Felwinter sighed. This whole conversation had been a bad idea from the start. He wasn’t going to get any information out of the trembling Titan. If anything, he’s just added to what Thane already thinks he is: A monster. 

“If you can’t tell me anything then this conversation can’t continue,” Felwinter turned to leave. 

“Why do you need the information?” Thane asked just as Felwinter was about to push out the door.

Felwinter looked over his shoulder at Thane. He really shouldn’t say anything in case he wasn’t above telling the Iron Lords, but due to their shared past, Felwinter made an exception. “I’m going to serve justice.”

Thane just nodded in silence, swallowing back fear. He backed away again, and Felwinter left the ex-solider to himself. Felwinter’s Ghost flashed into view the moment they were outside. “I reckon we’ll see him again.”

“We just lost a lead...” Felwinter mumbled. 

His Ghost’s single eye rolled in his shell. “You know Thane isn’t your only lead?”

Felwinter was mentally exhausted from the talk with Thane. His exhaustion drained his physical strength to the point where it took effort to lift his head toward his Ghost. 

The drone continued, drifting closer. “Whatever Thane has to say, you don’t need right now if it means you miss the chance right in front of you. There’s a way you can get away from the Iron Lords, and it’s already been offered.”

“Timur,” Felwinter said, remembering the earlier offer. “I’m not going with—“

“Yes you are,” his Ghost argued. “He no doubt wants to take you to some Clovis Bray lab or even better, Old Russia. You can easily find a way to sneak away from him.”

Felwinter didn’t respond, still hesitant about the idea of using Timur. The Iron Lord is smart. He won’t be easily fooled. Plus, there’s a chance the offer wasn’t available. Timur was nowhere to be found yesterday and hadn’t been present when the the Iron Lords questioned Felwinter about Thane. Maybe Timur already went alone. In that case, he should find a different method. It wouldn’t make sense to bother Timur and waste his time for something he could do himself.

“I’m trying to help you,” his Ghost’s voice grew angry. “I’ve done the math, run the calculations, it works out. Tomorrow morning you find Timur and tell him you want to go. He takes you there. You spend the whole day with him, then when it gets close to night you guys find some place to rest. Then, you break away. It works.” 

“Yeah, but—“

“It works,” his Ghost asserted. “Unless you want to wait for Thane to tattle to the Iron Lords and you sit through ‘debriefing’ all morning.”

“When you put it like that,” Felwinter began only to immediately cut himself off. He hated to admit it, but his Ghost was right. Going with Timur is the only way he can sneak away from to hunt down Citan’s friends without anyone getting suspicious—other than Timur of course—but Timur, besides Jolder, was someone he felt he could trust. 

Felwinter sighed. He could see many things going wrong, but right now going with Timur is his only shot. “It works.” 

“Thank the Light,” his Ghost released a fake sigh. “Now let’s get back to the safety of the Haven. I’m tired of talking to you.”


	9. Chapter 9

By the time he could hear the Iron Lords that hadn’t been on night duty begin to wake, he’d already been up most of the night. Not because he couldn’t sleep. He’s never really liked sleeping. There’s too many opportunities for an attack. Plus, Risen didn’t really need sleep. He, personally, has gone nearly a month without sleep. Going without sleep that long does have repercussions, but those repercussions are much more manageable than an assassin. 

He’s been staying up, preparing for today. Specifically with how he was going to sneak away from Timur, if the Iron Lord even agreed to go. Felwinter was ready. He had strapped his two sheathed daggers crisscrossed against his robes form, thrown on his heavy winter coat, placed his sidearm into his coat pocket, and tucked his shotgun inside his coat beside the daggers. He was about to consider himself ready before he noticed the broken receiver still lying on the bed. He grabbed it and tucked it beside his shotgun before pulling his coat closed. 

Felwinter listened through the closed door of his room. He could hear Timur’s voice echoing from the main room down the stairs. Felwinter decided it was time and opened the door. He walked down the corridor, the stairs, and finally across the main floor. Except Timur wasn’t on the main floor.

Felwinter spun around in a half circle. His eyes caught on Lady Skorri who was sitting curled up on one of the benches beside the wall, her nose in a book. 

“Skorri. Have you seen Timur,” he asked her, fully knowing the answer. 

Skorri glanced up at him through her golden curls. The moment she met his eyes the corners of her mouth twitched upward and she forced back a grin. She let out a breath, gathering herself. “Uh, yeah, he’s already out and about. Try the landing pads?”

“Thanks,” Felwinter mumbled.

He exited the shelter and began down the street, searching for the other Warlock. There weren’t many people out at this time, mostly Iron Lords, loitering around or trying to look busy. It wasn’t hard to find Timur walking further down the street, not too far from the Haven. Felwinter picked up my pace to catch up to him. Timur must’ve sensed him coming because, before Felwinter was within earshot, Timur turned around. His eyes scanned the street and flicked up to meet his gaze. Timur nodded a silent greeting and waited at the side of the road for Felwinter to reach him.

The last time he’d seen Timur had been two nights ago, when he’d first returned from Citan’s stronghold. It had been pitch black in the streets and Felwinter hadn’t picked up much on Timur’s appearance. Now, out in the sunlight, he could fully see the intricate angles of Timur’s face and how the sun bounced off of his skin, adding lighter shades to his darker face. 

With Timur turned to him, Felwinter could also see his signature brass familiar, tied around his neck. The old relic glowed the deep, dark violet of another power, a power which Timur never spoke about. Timur, unlike the other Iron Lords, was decorated in an assortment of old relics, mostly bands on his wrists. But the Iron Lord also had a silver earring, pierced through his left earlobe. 

Jewelry was unusual for Risen because it can easily be torn off in battle or used to restrain. However, Timur didn’t seem to care. He always seemed to have confidence in battle, so much confidence that Felwinter’s even seen some of his enemies turn and attack themselves.

“Greetings,” Timur said once he approached.

“Where were you yesterday,” Felwinter asked. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out accusingly, but they did.

“I was at Ruby Square, spending some time in the City,” Timur just gave him a friendly look, but Felwinter could see something else twinkling in his eyes. “Did I miss anything back here?”

“No. You just missed me getting chewed out by the Iron Lords,” Felwinter reported.

“Oh,” Timur looked sympathetic. “For what?”

Felwinter shook his head, not wanting to get into it. “Long story that I’m not here for. I’m just wondering if the offer for this morning is still available.”

Timur blinked in confusion for a moment before realization replaced it. “You mean for the place I was planning to take you?” 

“Yeah,” Felwinter said. He looked away, pretending to focus on something across the street as Timur’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I figured you already went.” 

“I haven’t,” Timur said quickly.

Felwinter looked back at him. To say that he was a bit surprised the Iron Lord didn’t go without him was an understatement. “Why not?”

“I thought that it would be better to wait until the weekend, but if you’d like to go now, then the offer’s still on the table.”

“Yeah. I’d like to go.”

“Great,” Timur redirected himself, sweeping an arm out to guide Felwinter forward. “We’ll have to take my jumpship. It’s waiting at the landing pads.”

He hesitated, a little surprised at Timur’s sudden reaction. “We should probably let someone know where we’re going.”

“No need. I had a feeling you would seek me out today, so I told Skorri early this morning,” Timur said confidently without slowing his pace. 

That explained the look she gave him...

“Where are we going exactly,” Felwinter returned his gaze forward. Ideally, the location would be in Old Russia. If that were the case, he’d have a better chance to slip away undetected.

Timur glanced at him. “Unfortunately for you, it’s a surprise.”

Felwinter had to clench his jaw to keep from releasing an annoyed breath. Of course it was a surprise. Of course Timur wouldn’t tell him where they were going. Everything has to be some clever joke with him.

“Don’t look so serious,” he said, sweeping another arm out to lead him down a separate pathway. “I promise you’ll like this.” 

“I’m sure I will,” Felwinter spoke, straining against his own annoyance. “What I don’t like is secrets.”

Timur paused. “I’ll give you a hint on where we’re going, if it makes you feel better: It’s a place we’ve been before.”

That narrowed it down to exclusively Old Russia. 

Timur weaved through the field of jumpships to find his own, parked near the back left corner. It was rather large for a jumpship. Not too big, but big enough to comfortably support a pilot and a couple passengers. The ship’s wings arched high into the air, an iridescent black in the early morning sunlight.

The jumpship’s door folded open, creating a step for them to enter the hold. Timur took the step first and Felwinter followed him up and into the cockpit. Timur took his seat at the controls and opened some of the drawers locked on the side of the ship. Felwinter watched him as he began to situate himself and took the seat on the other side of the cockpit.

Timur closed up the drawers and took a moment to stretch his shoulders, before he leaned towards the controls. Timur began to flick switches and press buttons on the control panels like a routine fashion. Once finished, he kept his hand lightly raised above the buttons, going through his startup protocol a second time. He nodded to himself, satisfied, and reached for the control column, pulling it back. Immediately, the ship came to life. It’s engines roared and Felwinter could feel a vibration up his seat like the heartbeat of the ship.

“Hey,” Timur’s sudden snap nearly made Felwinter jump. 

He met his eyes, confused to what he called him out for. 

Timur’s face became less intense and he laughed at Felwinter a little. “Seatbelt. It’s there for a reason.” 

He glanced down at himself, then to Timur, then to the side of his seat. He grabbed the belt hanging there and pulled it down, buckling it into place at his hip. A wave of embarrassment flowed through him but he suppressed it and looked back at Timur, who was trying his best to keep his eyes forward, obviously holding back another laugh. 

“You’re not a confident pilot, I’m guessing,” Felwinter said with another glance at the belt.

Timur smiled again. “I can’t claim to be.” He readjusted his grip on the control column and pulled it toward him, slowly bringing the jumpship off the ground. 

Felwinter’s eyes scanned the ground around the jumpship. I saw people walking on the narrow streets and sidewalks between the buildings. I was soon able to catch the tiled roof of the Iron Lords’ shelter and the surrounding buildings. My eyes drifted away from it and as the jumpship continued it’s slow ascend, I tilted my head up to see the bottom of the Traveler, shining bright gold and white in the early morning rays. 

I glanced down again, catching a last glimpse of the rooftops of the buildings below. I’ve been to many places in my life but this city, the Last Safe City on Earth, is nothing like anywhere else I’ve been. There’s no place on Earth that’s as civilized as the City. Everyone here is so relaxed. Even when this place was just a small cluster of tents and campfires, it remained peaceful, unclaimed territory. Everyone’s happy here. 

Of course they are, they live beneath the Traveler. They live lives of safety and prosperity. That’s more than anyone I’ve ever known can claim. That’s more than I ever got. 

Timur switched another lever and pushed forward on the control stick. Felwinter had just enough time to brace before the jumpship shot straight forward through the air. 

“Where did you find a jumpship,” Felwinter asked once the pressure in his chest decreased. 

A small smirk came to Timur’s lips. “What,” he glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “There weren’t many jumpships in Old Russia?” 

“No, there were,” he answered. “But there were also many Risen and scavengers who got to them first.” 

“And you weren’t one of them,” he guessed, slightly fixing the ship’s course. 

Felwinter shook my head. “I figure keeping a ship is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

He shrugged, “that’s true.” His eyes flashed up to the Exo’s. “But if you change your mind, we can probably get you one. And if you want, I could teach you.”

Felwinter glared, “I never said I didn’t know how to fly.” 

“Oh,” Timur jumped, an awkward breath escaping him, but he recovered quickly, returning to his usual voice. “I just assumed you didn’t.”

My face remained in a glare. “You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out. 

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at him again. “I got this ship from an old acquaintance,” he finally answered, confidence radiating off his voice. “Somewhere in Europe between Old Spain and Old France, long before joining up with the Iron Lords.” He leaned back in his chair. “I spent a lot of time in the area and while I was there I met a man, another Risen, who taught me a lot. He gifted me with this jumpship.”

“Who was this Risen,” Felwinter asked. He couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of Timur’s quick answer. 

“I can’t remember his name,” Timur shrugged. “I haven’t been able to track him down in all these years,” Timur quickly looked down. “We’ve got ten more minutes until we reach our destination. Any ideas where that would be?” 

Felwinter watched him for a moment through narrowed eyes. He was trying to change the conversation. “Mothyards,” Felwinter answered, returning his eyes forward to look through the windshield. 

“You got it,” Timur nodded. 

Of course he’d gotten it. Timur’s hint was that he was taking them somewhere they’ve been before. They’ve been all over Old Russia, the only place that would immediately ring a bell would be the Mothyards. 

They’d first met in the Mothyards.


	10. Chapter 10

Felwinter wasn’t sure how close they had been to the Mothyards when Timur was forced to land the ship. Upon descending from the upper layers of Earth’s atmosphere, they spotted a raging blizzard moving through the area. It wasn’t that bad when they were flying above it, but once Timur took the ship below the storm, the ship was battered by wind and hail, and the visibility was completely cut off. 

Timur landed the ship as close to the outside of the Cosmodrome walls as he could in an attempt to shield the ship from the unrelenting gusts of freezing wind. Other than the wall, the ship had no protection from the blizzard. If the ship were to tip over and the hull were to crack, or—even worse—an engine got damaged, they’d be stuck in the blizzard. Neither of them could open the hold to go out an secure the ship. If they did, the hold would be filled with snow. So their only choice was to wait out the storm. 

Felwinter was still seated in the rightmost chair of the cockpit, idly watching Timur as he fiddled with the navigational controls. The whole ship rocked around them as the wind began to pick up, and the endless dull roar beyond the cockpit grew. 

“It appears we’re just about 100 kilometers from the Mothyards,” Timur reported. His voice seemed to echo. Timur checked the weather surveillance radar next, finding the scale of the storm and added, “we’re going to be stuck here for awhile.”

Felwinter gave a nod of acknowledgement and noted how Timur didn’t sound too disappointed to find out they were going to be stuck here until the blizzard blew over. He, on the other hand, was boiling with anticipation which quickly simmered down into irritation. He needed to get back to Citan’s stronghold to look for clues, anything, that could set him in the direction of Citan’s soldiers. That’s the whole reason he was here. If he couldn’t find a chance to sneak away, then this entire trip had been wasted. 

“This is an unfortunate drawback,” Timur commented aloud, sensing Felwinter’s annoyance. “However, I might have some aliments stored in the back of my ship, if you’re hungry...” Timur drifted off, narrowing his eyes in thought.

Felwinter could almost feel the mental question forming in Timur’s mind if whether he, an Exo, could eat. Felwinter just turned his head away, watching the swirling white storm through the windshield. “No thanks.”

“Alright. I’ll be back then,” Timur stood from his seat in the cockpit and disappeared from Felwinter’s sight as he headed farther into the ship. 

Timur’s footsteps quickly faded, leaving Felwinter in the cockpit by himself. But, like all Risen, he wasn’t entirely alone. His Ghost was always with him, hiding from view, but with Timur gone, the drone deemed it safe to appear. He flashed into view between Felwinter and the windshield, already with what he took to be disapproval on his featureless shell. 

“I’d be careful around that one,” his Ghost whispered, his words barely audible above the wind outside.

“Yes, I’m sure there is a malicious reason for taking me back here,” Felwinter muttered dryly.

He reached into his coat and took out the broken receiver, bringing the device into his lap. Blizzards like this didn’t blow over quickly, some took hours. He couldn’t afford to spent his time sitting around. He needed to get a lead on one of Citan’s soldiers and he also needed a distraction from his Ghost. Repairing the receiver was an activity that satisfied both needs.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” 

“He doesn’t look at me any differently,” Felwinter was quick to respond. This was a conversation he didn’t want to be having. Not with his Ghost, not with anybody. 

“Then you’re obviously not as observant as I am. You think Timur looks at Radegast or Perun the same way he does at you?”

Felwinter had to manually stop himself from rolling his eyes at his Ghost. “Timur barely knows me. If you think he likes me, then I think you’re mistaken.” 

His Ghost paused for a long while, his singular optic refocusing on him. When he did speak, he had abandoned the whisper. “Wait, that’s not what I’m thinking at all.”

Felwinter shut his mouth. He shot his focus back to the receiver in his hands, trying to let his words blow over. They wouldn’t. He’d already said too much.

“Do you like him?”

“No,” Felwinter glared at the drone. “And that’s hardly your business.”

“I think otherwise,” he backed off from his prodding and began to speak to himself, intending for Felwinter to hear. “Now things are starting to make sense: Joining the Iron Lords, seeking out Timur, traveling with him on all these trips to Warmind Vaults.” His Ghost stared at him with a sudden realization. “You do like him.”

Felwinter twitched at his Ghost’s raised tone. He should never have said anything. “I think you’re just trying to make things fit into your make-believe version of things,” he muttered.

“And I think you’re being defensive,” his Ghost shot back.

“This isn’t being defensive,” Felwinter argued.

His Ghost snorted at that, and seemed on the edge of making another comment, but something stopped him. Maybe the drone knew it would just escalate to more arguing, or maybe he wanted make sure he said what he wanted to say. 

“Look, all I’m saying is you should be careful,” he said. “Timur reminds me a lot of Citan.”

“Don’t compare the two of them,” Felwinter warned. “They are nothing alike.”

“There’s a comparison to be made, like it or not. Citan was promising at first too, I’ll admit it. For a little while he provided the safety we needed, but in the end, Citan didn’t protect you out of the kindness of his heart. He used you.” 

“Stop talking.”

“No. You need to hear this because I fear that Timur and the rest of the Iron Lords will—“

“No, actually stop talking,” Felwinter turned around in his seat to see Timur returning from the back of the ship. 

His Ghost went quiet and flashed out of sight without another word.

Felwinter shifted so he was facing forward in his seat again, and watched the swirling snow outside, trying to put his focus into it. He didn’t look over at Timur when he took his seat beside him, and Timur didn’t look over at him. The Iron Lord just sat in his seat, watching the radar on the control panel. 

Timur wasn’t saying anything... Did he know? Did he hear what him and his Ghost had said? Deep down, Felwinter really hoped Timur hadn’t heard anything. He’d rather face the blizzard head-on then have to explain to Timur what he’d said, especially about whether Felwinter “liked him” or not. He didn’t. He was sure he didn’t. That was just illogical. He and Timur were acquaintances at best. Even if Timur was the only Iron Lord that really knew anything about him, that didn’t mean that he liked him. 

“What’s that you have?” Timur suddenly asked.

Felwinter looked over at the Iron Lord, the cords in his neck tightening in nervousness. Timur met his gaze then glanced down to his hands.

Felwinter glanced down where Timur was looking and found the receiver. He’d nearly forgotten about it during the argument with his Ghost. Felwinter looked back at Timur who was still waiting for a response. He considered hiding the device but figured, since it didn’t work, that it wouldn’t hurt to let Timur see it. 

“A broken receiver,” he lifted it out of his lap for Timur to see clearly. 

“I might be able to fix it for you,” Timur offered upon seeing what it was.

“Really?” He couldn’t help but feel skeptical at Timur’s quick offer. The Iron Lord hadn’t even hesitated. 

Timur shrugged, “sure.” He reached his hand out, palm flat, for Felwinter to drop the device into. 

He handed it to Timur and the Iron Lord held it carefully in both hands. He adjusted his hold, stretching his fingers across the entire surface. Felwinter watched him carefully as he examined the receiver and continued to watch when Timur set it down. 

“I don’t have the tools to open this up and get a look inside, so I cannot see the interior, but at least it doesn’t have any exterior damage.” Timur paused, a new idea lighting up his eyes. He picked up the device again. “I might be able to recharge it, and see if it works then?”

Felwinter gazed blankly into Timur’s eyes for a long while before he realized the Iron Lord was waiting for confirmation. Felwinter glanced away. “Go ahead.” He looked back the moment Timur’s eyes were back on the receiver. 

Arc Light crackled in Timur’s palms, in direct contact with the receiver he held. Threads of cyan began to meet the distance between his fingers and the device, soon lighting up the device so it became a box of lightning. The charge in the air increased as Timur’s Light crackled against the device, ‘recharging’ it. Felwinter was unsure if this would work or not. Some part of him wanted to stop Timur to avoid the risk that he fried the receiver, even if it was broken. But as soon as Timur began, he stopped, and the charge in the air died down. 

Bursts of static began to escape the receiver, then a voice. “...Follow Kazimir’s Risen... Push through the storm...” 

Felwinter’s head snapped up immediately upon hearing the voice. It had come out clearly in the static of the receiver. He almost hadn’t picked up the voice and the language it had spoken with due to his extended time in the City. The Iron Lords primarily speak in English, and Felwinter’s English is good enough to cause no problems there. But the voice in the receiver wasn’t speaking English.

Timur kept twisting the device in his hands with a puzzled expression. “Huh. The audio seems to be garbled.”

“No, it’s not,” Felwinter snatched the device out of Timur’s hands before the Iron Lord could mess with the settings. 

Timur was surprised at Felwinter’s quick movements but he didn’t protest. Instead, Timur leaned forward, watching him to find an explanation. 

“They’re speaking Russian,” Felwinter said. 

“Oh,” Timur’s eyes sparked with interest. “You can understand Russian?”

“Of course I can,” Felwinter glanced up from the device. “You didn’t think I could?”

Timur blinked. “Well, you’re so fluent in English I would never have guessed.” He paused, “it makes sense. You’re from Old Russia, of course you would.”

Felwinter looked back to the device. He turned his head to the side to put the receiver closer to his ear. The device was now only spitting out heavy static with no discernible voices. With the blizzard still raging outside, he had to strain and even close his eyes to try and hear the voices better. 

“What are they saying then?” He heard Timur ask.

“Hold on,” Felwinter opened his eyes and quickly placed the receiver in his lap. With a few dial turns, he adjusted the settings to try and get a stronger signal. The reception improved immediately.

“We’ll surround the settlement, cut off their supplies... When Kazimir comes out... he’s mine... I want EVERYONE here to know that!”

Felwinter nearly forgot to breathe, as if a simple inhale would invalidate what he’d just heard. This transmission was a lead, a great lead to one of his targets, Kazimir, a personal guard and friend of Citan’s. He’s who Felwinter was not looking forward to fighting the most, and to take him out first would be a huge burden off his shoulders. He hadn’t expected anything of importance to come out of the device but, in fixing it, he has heard a crucial transmission. A transmission he wasn’t meant to hear... 

Felwinter couldn’t get too excited though. He had only heard Kazimir’s name. He didn’t yet know where the Warlord was or know how to get to him, and he certainly didn’t have a way to sneak away from Timur. 

“What are they saying,” Timur repeated.

Felwinter hesitated, refusing to meet Timur’s eyes. He couldn’t tell the Iron Lord, that he was certain about. He would have to come up with something different.

“Just a weather report. It must be tuned to some village’s frequency,” Felwinter lied. 

“Do they need help?” Timur asked.

“No,” Felwinter said then added, “I don’t think so.”

Felwinter paused. The settlement did need help, and not only that, it sounded as if it were a settlement controlled by Kazimir, who had practically been Citan’s second in command. Felwinter could only imagine what had happened to Kazimir after Citan’s death since, by now, everyone had to know. Would Kazimir receive the territory? Would Citan’s soldiers listen to him? Or would there be turmoil?

There would no doubt be turmoil. With Citan gone, it’s bound to turn into some power struggle between his chain of command. Power struggles can turn ugly fast. Entire villages can be wiped out if they’re unfortunate enough to be caught between two Warlords. This fate was destined for the village mentioned in the transmission if nothing was done. 

If Felwinter was by himself, he’d ask his Ghost to find the coordinates of the message and would find both Kazimir and the voice in the message before damage could be done. He can’t do that now with Timur right next to him, able to hear anything he were to say. Timur... couldn’t be trusted. At least not yet. Timur’s still an Iron Lord. If Felwinter were to tell him what’s going on then there’s nothing keeping him from telling the others, and the others were definitely not to be trusted. But even then, it didn’t feel good to lie to Timur when the Iron Lord so readily helped him repair the receiver.

“Actually...” Felwinter trailed off.


	11. Chapter 11

Should he tell Timur? That would be the smart thing to do, and be had the Iron Lord’s attention now. But... He couldn’t. Letting Timur in on what’s happening would require a long explanation, detailing him in on the last decade, atrocities and all, which was not an option. Not only could many of his previous actions be punishable by the Iron Lords, he found himself unable to talk or even think about the past. So much had happened in the last decade and he would never want Timur to find out. He would never look at him the same way again… 

“What’s wrong,” Timur’s concern momentarily freed him from his thoughts. 

Felwinter stiffened. As much as he wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard the Iron Lord, or play it off as Timur mistaking his voice in the ever-present snowstorm just beyond the hull of the ship, he knew he had to say something. “How long until the blizzard passes?” 

Timur blinked, obviously surprised by the question, but he quickly recovered. “According to the radar, we’ve got another three hours before it clears up.”

Three hours... Maybe he could convince Timur to let him leave. The Iron Lord wasn’t holding him against his will, he could leave if he wanted, but that would raise too many questions. He needed to convince Timur so that he approved him leaving without knowing where he was going.

“I know you’re getting antsy just sitting here. I am too,” Timur said, taking another look at the radar. “It might be clear enough in another hour to leave. If you want.”

“What if we left now?” Felwinter asked.

The question hung in the air for a moment. “Have somewhere to be,” Timur asked, a brief smirk flashing across his face.

Yes. Yes, he did. 

“It would probably be better to go somewhere rather than sit here.” In awkward silence, he might add.

Timur shifted forward to glance out the window. The storm cast a silvery hue over his dark olive skin, highlighting the intricate angles on his face. His brow furrowed as he stared out at the storm that had begun to lessen. He looked back at him, “We could probably move someplace else before the storm picks up again. Do you have coordinates for a location?”

“Yeah,” Felwinter hesitated. “Ghost, put in the coordinates.” 

His Ghost flashed into view, already glaring at him. Felwinter held his Ghost’s gaze, hoping that he understood what he had meant by “coordinates.” He couldn’t say out loud that he wanted his Ghost to search for where they’d received the message from because that would spur Timur’s curiosity. He had to just wait for his Ghost to put coordinates in or wait for him to purposely screw this up for him. Thankfully, it was the latter.

His Ghost drifted over to float above the control panel and sent a beam of light down to input his coordinates. He stayed connected to the panel for a moment longer than usual, but that had to be a sign that his Ghost was taking time to check that they were the right coordinates. When his Ghost retracted the beam, finishing the input, he wasn’t quite done yet because he turned to drift over to Timur. Felwinter felt his heart sink. What was the drone going to do now? Embarrass him surely.

“Lord Timur, please excuse the two of us. Felwinter and I need to have a private conversation,” his Ghost said, changing his voice to the lighter tone reserved for all Risen except Felwinter. 

“Of course,” Timur glanced back and forth between Felwinter and his Ghost. “There’s a separate compartment in the back if you want to talk in there,” he offered, almost immediately turning his attention to the coordinates that Felwinter’s Ghost had input as if he wanted to show that he wasn’t going to eavesdrop. Felwinter was sure the Iron Lord would eavesdrop anyway.

“Thank you. We’ll be back in just a moment.” The drone drifted away from Timur and into the back of the ship.

Felwinter got up and followed his Ghost into the back, glancing at the back of Timur’s chair before he fully left the cockpit. His Ghost was waiting beside the separate compartment, a slender, closed door on the side of the wall. Felwinter stepped up to the door and placed a hand on to push through it, finding that the door wasn’t hinged to the wall but rather slid into it. He slid open the door and entered the compartment. It was dark inside with no lighting, and there wasn’t much room to move around. Overall, the compartment felt more like a closet than a room, with only enough space for two stacked berths and just enough space to walk in front of them. He didn’t want to be in there for long, so when his Ghost followed him in, he slid the door shut and twisted to face him.

“What is it,” Felwinter asked without trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

His Ghost responded with a sharp tone of his own. “We aren’t going to find Kazimir.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean? We can’t bring Timur. Are you stupid?” 

“So you gave him different coordinates?” Felwinter asked in disbelief. “Where are we going then?!”

“Relax,” his Ghost rolled his single eye at him. “I’m sending us to an old library. Hopefully all of the old research textbooks will get his eyes off you long enough for us to break for it.”

Felwinter narrowed his eyes at his Ghost. “Stop that.”

The drone blinked. “Stop doing what?”

Felwinter didn’t dare to answer. He’s known his Ghost long enough to know that if he tells his Ghost to quit it with something, it will usually just cause him to increase the frequency. He already didn’t like his Ghost’s comments about him and Timur, and he couldn’t handle hearing them more often. The only thing his Ghost’s comments achieve is giving him a strange constricted feeling in his chest. That, and make the time he spends with Timur feel awkward, and make him wonder if Timur thought it was awkward too. Timur’s the only Iron Lord that says what he’s thinking to Felwinter, especially about him, and it would hurt to think his words were dishonest. 

“If you think I’m going to change my opinion on Timur, I wouldn’t hold your breath,” his Ghost finally said. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I don’t trust him.”

“For what reason?”

His Ghost angled his shell. “First off, I think he’d tear you apart piece by piece if he ever got his hands on you.” He lowered his voice. “Just look at yourself. You’re an Exo, handcrafted by Clovis Bray, the same research facility he’s so unhealthily obsessed with.” 

“I doubt he’s―”

“Doubt it all you want,” the drone interrupted. “But I find it coincidental that he chooses you to travel with, of all people.” 

Felwinter wanted to argue with him, but everything he’d said had been right, and it made him question what he thought about Timur. It’s true that Timur’s a Human, obsessed with Clovis Bray. Timur could be using him for information or keeping him in his back pocket until he needed him. Maybe Timur was more interested in Exos than he led on, and he was luring him into a false sense of security with his charm to find out what’s inside of him. Felwinter didn’t want to think of what else Timur could be potentially plotting, mostly because he didn’t want to believe the Iron Lord could be plotting something against him. 

“Something to think about, huh,” his Ghost asked expectantly, having watched him contemplate it. 

Felwinter pushed his thoughts of Timur’s true intentions into the back of his mind, losing the energy to think about them right now. Instead he attempted to end the conversation. “Is that all?”

“Other than the fact that the coordinates bring you within miles of the village Kazimir’s barricaded himself, and I’m great at improvising, then yeah, we’re good.”

Felwinter stepped forward and opened the sliding door to enter the rest of the hold. He blinked as his eyes adjusted from the darkness of the compartment to the light emanating from the cockpit. 

Though invisible, he could feel his Ghost’s presence against his shoulder. The drone whispered close to his ear, “Remember, once we get there you’ve got to sneak away from Timur while he’s not looking. You either do this alone or not at all. We aren’t bringing him with us.” 

Felwinter jerked his head away from the drone’s voice, a non-verbal sign he was done talking to him, and entered the cockpit, directing his attention at Timur. The Iron Lord threw a quick glance of acknowledgement over his shoulder at him, returning his eyes forward. “We’re close,” he reported. “Right on top of it, actually.” 

The ship made a sudden bank as Timur spun the ship around. Felwinter nearly fell forward, not in his seat yet. He got caught on the back of Timur’s seat, having to clutch it to stay upright. Timur glanced back at him again, realizing he wasn’t strapped in, and slowed the ship so that it hovered in the air, engines roaring.

“Sorry about that,” Timur apologized. He turned around in his seat, grabbing Felwinter by the arm, and helped him to the empty seat. “Is this the right place?” Timur asked him, his eyes scanning the ground.

Felwinter leaned forward in his seat to better view the land beneath them. The blizzard still raged beyond the windshield, limiting visibility. Past the scattered flurries, he could make out an evergreen forest, strewn in snow, which stretched far into the horizon. At first, it appeared as if nothing would interrupt the integrity of the forest, but the damaged roof of a structure poked through the treetop, surpassing all odds. At some point the whole building was probably visible but due to the Collapse, the forest has had many years to over grow and cover up all evidence of a past civilization.

“Is this the place,” Timur glanced at him for confirmation. 

“It is,” Felwinter answered when, in reality, only his Ghost knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may be biting off a little more than I can chew with these daily updates! As I don’t usually post anything unfinished, I’m still getting the hang of posting consistently.
> 
> So I think instead of daily updates, I’ll cut it down to every Wednesday for now, since I don’t want to catch up to myself too fast/keep things consistent.


	12. Chapter 12

Timur brought the ship closer to the treetops. The trees surrounding them shook wildly, their branches snapping out like whips from the power of the jumpship’s engines as it circled around the building. Timur was looking for a place to land in the dense forest, and eventually, he found it: A small gap between the tree line and the back of the dilapidated building. Timur eased back on the controls, bringing the ship down as slow as possible. A whole minute seemed to slip by before the ship came to a stop and began to rock on the uneven ground. Timur made several quick adjustments before he committed and shut the systems down.

“What is this place,” Timur asked him. 

“Some old library,” Felwinter answered softly. 

Timur released a hum as he leaned forward in his seat, staring out the windshield to look at the building. “This place is in the middle of nowhere...”

Felwinter couldn’t quite tell what the look on Timur’s face was. He guessed it was probably a mixture of disgust and curiosity. “Sorry. I figured you wouldn’t want to go to any villages nearby.” 

Timur looked over at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “No need to apologize. I’d actually prefer to have a place to ourselves. One that is much bigger than a jumpship.” 

“I would too.” Felwinter just agreed because he was partially unsure how to respond to that.

Timur stood up and exited the cockpit. Felwinter followed him out and waited as the Iron Lord slung a winter coat over his own robes and threw his satchel over his shoulder. He then stepped across the hold and grabbed the helmet that hung on the wall, placing it on his head and sealing it at the bottom. Felwinter did the same.

When the two Iron Lords were ready, Timur walked to the control panel at the back of the ship and manually opened the hold. The squeak of old metal on old metal sounded within the walls as the ramp was lowered. Immediately, the frigid wind rushed up the ramp, scattering gusts of wind throughout the hold. Felwinter hadn’t even stepped outside yet and he was already freezing. He found himself leaning closer to Timur as if he could absorb his warmth through his coat. Felwinter pulled back immediately, not wanting Timur to notice, and was the first to step down the ramp and into the elements. 

He promptly regretted his decision because, while the forest served to protect them from most of the blizzard, the way the wind had to flow around the library sent the strong gusts straight into them. Felwinter had to lean into the wind to stay upright, and even then, he felt as if the wind would carry him away. 

Timur was right behind him and, impeded by both the wind and the deep snow, passed him to begin toward the back door of the library. Felwinter followed close behind, thankful to be able to stand at Timur’s side so that he was shielded from the worst of the frigid wind. 

“Do you have a way inside?” Timur reached the door first. He pressed himself up against the outside wall beneath the narrow eaves. 

Felwinter reached the door next. He pressed a hand against the cold, steel door, and with his other, tried the knob, He wasn’t surprised when it was locked. Felwinter stepped back from the door and pulled his arm back to prepare a strike. He snapped his hand forward, releasing a wave of Void Light which blasted the door off its hinges and sent it cartwheeling into the shadows. Timur pushed off of the wall and headed toward the door, but he stopped. At first, Felwinter thought the Iron Lord had stopped to let him in first, however, he was staring inside with a look of distrust. Felwinter let himself peer into the library too and he was greeted by this uneasy feeling that seemed to halt him from going inside. Felwinter glanced at Timur without turning his head. They were surely thinking the same thing. There was no way this place was abandoned. Felwinter personally knew too well from experience that anything can be hiding in the shadows.

“Are you getting a bad feeling as well?” Timur’s eyes lingered on the library. 

On any other occasion, Felwinter would’ve told Timur the truth. He would’ve said that it made him uneasy being here and that they should just go back into Timur’s ship until the storm blew over. 

“Don’t worry. There’s no one here,” Felwinter said in an attempt to convince both Timur and himself. 

Timur looked unsure. “I’ll have to trust you on that.” Timur inhaled, and when he released the breath he seemed to release his fear alongside it, returning to his usual know-it-all expression. “Care to show me around?”

“Follow me.” Felwinter, against all better judgement, stepped over the threshold and into the library. 

It felt like he was passing into an abyss as he walked further and further into the building. There appeared to be no windows in the library and nothing to let in any light. Felwinter was forced to feel his way through the dark before his eyes adjusted enough for him to walk without running into something. He still couldn’t see too far ahead of him, but he could see the outlines of freestanding shelving units surrounding him. He weaved around a unit to reach the other side, so that he could reach in. His hands brushed against the stored folders.

“Felwinter, where did you go?” Timur sounded further back by where they’d entered.

Felwinter turned to see the Iron Lord moving through the darkness with outstretched arms, feeling his way around. Felwinter stepped back around the freestanding shelves and back to Timur. The Iron Lord blinked as he approached, able to see him moving through the darkness but unable to make him out. Arc Light crackled in Timur’s hands as he tried to use the light to see Felwinter, but it only screwed up his eyes more. Felwinter reached out to Timur and lightly grabbed his forearm to help anchor Timur to his surroundings. 

Timur looked at Felwinter’s synthetic eyes, the only light source in the entire building. “Do you know if there’s working lights in here?” He asked, blinking furiously to adjust to the dark.

“There could be a fuse box somewhere. That, or a backup generator outside.” Felwinter listed their options. 

“Let’s try the fuse,” Timur said. 

“It’s in the basement.”

Felwinter and Timur stiffened, leaning into each other upon hearing the voice of Felwinter’s Ghost, who had all of a sudden decided to intrude on the conversation. 

“I should give you a bell…” Felwinter muttered to the drone.

“Or a flashlight,” his Ghost shot back. “That would be helpful.”

Timur let out an amused snort at his Ghost’s comment, then he squeezed Felwinter’s arm to grab his attention. “Lead the way.”  
Felwinter did so, even though he had next to no idea where he was going. 

Felwinter followed the bookshelves to find the wall of the building in the maze of standing shelving units. He followed the wall until he found a door, open to the rest of the room. Once again, he got a bad feeling staring at the door and the emptiness that laid beyond the staircase, descending into the depths. 

“Find it,” Timur asked close to his ear.

“Y-Yeah,” Felwinter shook himself and stepped towards the door, a hand still grasping Timur’s forearm. “Mind the step,” he warned.

Felwinter made the first step and reached to his side to grab the railing leading down into the basement. Timur was immediately at his side. The Iron Lord felt the opposing wall for the railing and grabbed on. When Timur was steady, Felwinter began down the stairs, taking them one at a time so that he wasn’t pulling Timur along. Each step creaked horribly, echoing into the basement. If anything was hiding down there, then they could hear them coming. 

Felwinter reached the bottom and scanned the basement. It was full of boxes of all sizes, stacked to accommodate an armored solider. 

It’s nothing. There’s no one down here, he thought to himself. Even if his sixth sense was acting up, it didn’t mean anything was wrong. 

“Is that the fuse?” Timur’s voice brought Felwinter back to reality. He panned his gaze around the room, locating the red lights shinning on the wall.

“It is,” Felwinter walked to the fuse box, and even though Timur knew where he was supposed to go, they both kept their arm’s linked.

“The fuse box is open,” Timur pointed out aloud. 

It was, and that in itself was strange. It meant that someone had recently opened the box. From looking at the rows of switches, he could see that all of them were pointed to the ‘off’ position. He reached up and began flicking the switches on. Each flick was accompanied by a surge of electricity through the power lines. 

“Someone tripped the breaker. They’re all off,” Felwinter said, flicking the last switch which drowned the basement in light. 

Timur tensed and Felwinter shielded his eyes against Timur’s shoulder. When he realized he was pressing against Timur, he unlinked their arms and pulled himself away, putting distance between the two of them. Felwinter watched Timur’s face for a reaction. If Timur was aware that Felwinter had just pressed his forehead against his shoulder, then he gave no sign. He was still blinking to adjust to the sudden light. 

“Let’s get upstairs,” Felwinter began for the stairs as soon as Timur recovered so that he wouldn’t have time to realize what he’d done. 

Felwinter reached the top step with Timur right behind him. His eyes were immediately drawn upwards to the other floors visible from the main. This place looked rundown on the outside, but on the inside, it was of Golden Age quality. It had three floors, each with sand colored wallpaper with a floral design, and deep mahogany trim. The two floors above the main had glass railings and looked upon the main floor with its many rows of shelves and supporting columns.

Timur was staring straight up too, a sparkle in his eyes. He snapped his head down quickly to meet Felwinter’s eyes. “Do you know what this is?” 

“An old library,” he asked. 

Timur shook his head with a smile. “This isn’t a library, it’s an archive!” He called out in excitement and padded disappearing behind a shelve. “It will be full of public documents and records!” He could hear his voice from behind the unit. 

Felwinter was almost dumbfounded. His Ghost’s plan had worked. Timur was already completely enthralled by the contents of the building.

Timur peeked his head around the shelf and beckoned him with a finger. “I’m going to need you to translate this for me!”


	13. Chapter 13

In the time it took the storm outside to pick up again, Timur had rummaged through all three levels of the archive and brought the folders back to the main floor. Timur had left quite a mess of the place. Felwinter had to watch his step to be sure not to slip on a loose page as he followed Timur into the area beneath the overhanging second floor, an area with several elongated tables. He watched over Timur’s shoulder as the Iron Lord laid out all of the documents—the majority written in Russian, or other native dialects, with few having an English translation—and began the tedious work of sorting the documents.

Felwinter retreated to the edge of the study area to give Timur enough space to do his work. He walked over to where a slender daybed was tucked in the corner and laid out to watch Timur. The Iron Lord was pacing between each of the tables, taking time to look at the many documents he had placed out on each one. 

A frustrated wrinkle grew across the Iron Lord’s forehead and he reached forward to grab a document. He turned it for Felwinter to see. “Do you remember what this one said?” He asked.

Felwinter looked at the document from where he sat, able to recognize it by the shape of the paragraphs alone. “That’s the one from the 2100s. Sightings of the Traveler on Mars through Russian satellites.”

Timur nodded. “That’s on this table then,” he walked it over and placed it with the matching documents. 

Felwinter continued to watch the Iron Lord, happy to help him in his sorting game, but his mind was on something else. The village. Kazimir. His plan. He needed to get out of here, and with Timur distracted, now was the perfect time. 

“Hey, Timur,” Felwinter stood from the daybed.

The Iron Lord looked up, a nonverbal cue to begin. 

“I’ve got to step outside a moment,” he said, working steady confidence into his voice. 

“You don’t have to ask me to leave” Timur gave him a humorous look. “Unless you want me to go with you.”

“No. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright…” Timur leaned his weight against the table, watching him with an unreadable expression. “You know what? Before you go, I’ve got to give you something.”

“Can’t this wait?” Felwinter didn’t move.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you, and I think now would be the perfect time,” Timur walked up to him, all the while loosening a chain-linked bracelet from his gauntlet. He handed it to Felwinter, and the attached ornament swung down, revealing the turquoise stone attached to the bracelet, shining with the same indigo energy that Timur’s brass pendant shined with. 

“I’m not accepting this.” Felwinter held his arm out to give the bracelet back to Timur.

“Oh,” Timur looked surprised but he quickly recovered. “Alright then.”

Timur reached up with one hand to grab his brass familiar, then extended his other to grab the bracelet from Felwinter. Instead of taking it straight out of his hand, the Iron Lord grabbed on to his wrist tightly. He wrapped his fingers around Felwinter’s and stared into his eyes with a look of deep concentration. Felwinter felt his skin crawl at the sudden contact. His whole body began to strain, but before Felwinter could pull out of the grip, Timur’s fingers had already slipped down his wrist and plucked the bracelet out of his hand. 

Upon release, Felwinter backstepped, staring at Timur with narrowed eyes. He was about to snap out a comment about how Timur should keep his hands to himself, but his voice caught in his throat. His whole body began to feel strange, like a pulsing energy courses through his veins, but one that wasn’t his.

“What did you do,” Felwinter spluttered out when the pulsating left his body. 

Timur had already turned to step back around one of the tables. He glanced at Felwinter. “I didn’t do anything. Now go do what you have to do,” he looked down at the documents. 

Felwinter wasn’t an idiot. He knew he felt something, but he didn’t have time to deal with this right now. He really needed to get going. Time was running out for him to leave, and since Timur seemed completely uninterested in where Felwinter was going, now was the best chance to leave. So he turned to leave the study area.

“Oh, and Felwinter.” Timur gave him one final look. “Don’t get killed.”

Felwinter watched him strangely, “I don’t plan on it.” He turned away from him, heading for the front of the library. He reached the door and walked through it, never glancing behind to see if Timur was still watching him. Was his Ghost right? Could Timur not be trusted?

“How much you want to bet Timur knows?” Felwinter’s Ghost didn’t wait until they were outside to start talking. 

“This was your plan.” He pointed out, pulling his helmet down over his head. The frigid gusts of wind, arguably worse than before, battered Felwinter as he stepped away from the building. 

“It was actually my suggestion,” The drone argued. 

“You still came up with it.” Felwinter stepped behind Timur’s ship, using it as cover from the wind. “Now, where is Kazimir? Do you have the coordinates?”

His sparrow was transmitted before him. “Already plugged the coordinates in. It’s a ten minute ride by sparrow. East.”

Felwinter mounted the sparrow without another word and shifted it into gear. The powerful engine growled beneath him, ready to run, but Felwinter found that he hesitated. A part of him wanted to stay here with Timur for the night, while the other part of him questioned why he was doing this in the first place. 

Justice. That’s why he’s doing this. Bad people are out there and they need to be dealt with before they can do more harm. Timur... Timur can wait...

Felwinter grabbed the handlebars, placed his boots against the petals, and shot off into the forest, heading in the direction of the village. He weaved between the trees, having to drive slower than he’d like to avoid crashing the hovercraft. At least he knew where he was going: Mevichi, a settlement on the edge of Citan’s western border. He’s never been to the village before, mostly because the people there can be provincial. They close their borders to Exos, the occasional Awoken, and all outside Risen. He’d imagine that, if they knew of his connection to the Void, they would have had his head on a stake long before he abandoned Citan’s ranks. None of that matters though, if Kazimir is inside, he’s going in after him. No one, Risen or non-Risen, could stop him.

“Hey, your receiver’s talking,” Felwinter’s Ghost spoke close to his ear.

Felwinter kept his eyes forward as he brought an arm to his chest. He slipped an arm into his coat and pulled the receiver out from where he’d tucked it inside. He braced the device up against the base of the sparrow to steady it while he stretched his thumb down to spin the dial that controlled the volume. 

“Fire beyond the walls!” A shrill voice screamed from the receiver.

“What the Hell’s happening?” A voice responded. “Did the assault start?”

“No! Everyone’s outside!”

“Kazimir is burning the place down!” A third distinct voice reported. 

“Is he a madman!”

Felwinter slowed his sparrow, bringing it down to a crawl. He lifted the receiver closer to hear. The voices had turned into a dozen, all screaming through the same channel. 

“Where’s Kodiak?”

“He went inside! He’s going after Kazimir!”

“Get him outta there!”

“We should go with him!”

“No! Pallas said to fall back! She’s second in command!”

“Get him outta there!”

At this point, Felwinter had completely come to a stop. He was too focused on the voices in the receiver to drive his sparrow safely. All the voices were loud and panicked, and now that he’d fully came to a stop, he could hear the sounds of battle and roaring flames. It sounded like war.

His Ghost flashed into view, staring at him with a dim, blue eye. “We shouldn’t go.”

“We have to,” Felwinter asserted, his eyes flicking upwards. Faint smoke trails flowed between the branches above him, coming from ahead. The village was close.

Felwinter continued to ride his sparrow until he spotted Mevichi’s outer wall. He had his sidearm at the ready, preparing himself for the soldiers stationed outside the wall. But when he arrived, there was not a soul in sight, only the patted down snow they left behind. 

He hopped off his sparrow and into the deep tracks, following them to the wall. The stone blocks were slick with ash, so he glided over the wall, avoiding contact with it. When he landed on the other side of the wall, he was greeted with what he had expected.

The whole village was on fire. Smoke billowed out of each structure, the gases dark and hateful. All around him, structures fell, sending splintering wood springing through the streets. Ash filled the air, stained everything within Mevichi’s walls. Even the snow within the village was stained grey. But through this chaos, there was no movement besides the flickering of fire tongues against wood. It seemed like no one was here except him, although, he guessed that if the flames weren’t roaring in his ears, he’d hear the screams of the dying. 

Beside one of the burning huts, Felwinter spotted a body, halfway buried in the snow. He approached to get a better look, already knowing what it was long before he got a whiff of burned flesh. It was a human body charred black by the flames. Felwinter stayed in the streets, not advancing further. It would only reveal more corpses. This place had to be full of the remains of unfortunate people who were unable to escape their Warlord. 

“The voices in the receiver warned of this,” his Ghost remained hidden in case danger hadn’t left yet.

“Kazimir killed his own people…” Felwinter struggled to process what had happened here. It wasn’t so much that the scene bothered or disturbed him. He’s seen death before and was desensitized to the whole topic. What was hard to understand was why Kazimir would do this. Especially to a village he controlled.

“He burned the village so it couldn’t be taken from him,” the drone concluded. “Another case of ‘if I can’t have it no one can.’”

“A minute sooner and we could’ve stopped him.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him,” his Ghost muttered unsympathetically. “Look at this. The whole place is on fire! It would’ve burned regardless of anything you’d do.”

This whole trip had been in vain... All this planning to find a lead, get away from Timur, and go to the coordinates, yet he couldn’t manage to find Kazimir. He should’ve just stayed with Timur. Why did he even leave? 

“You,” a voice snarled. 

Felwinter spun around, Void Light rising within him, 

The man walked through the gap between two burning buildings. He reached up with both hands to tear the helmet off his head, tossing it into the snow. “I should’ve known you’d be working for Kodiak!” 

That’s Kazimir in his heavy chain armor and animal fur. He thinks Felwinter’s working with Kodiak. He doesn’t know he came alone. 

Kazimir stomped forward in a blind rage, further into the ring of flaming buildings. “What happened?” Kazimir continued forward, brandishing no more than a fist in his direction. “Did your little Iron Wolves discover your secret?” 

Felwinter wasn’t here to talk, he was here to take Kazimir out. However, it seemed Kazimir had the same idea. A fire rose around Kazimir, swirling towards his outstretched hand. With a clang that filled the air, a flaming hammer formed in his hand. He looked at Felwinter and swung his arm, allowing the weapon to swing through the air. 

Felwinter brought both of his hands back and stretched his fingers, pulling from the Void. A ball of unstable Void energy grew in Felwinter’s hand, about to detonate. He pulled it back, preparing to fling it at Kazimir, but it was too late. Kazimir’s flaming hammer hit his shoulder, bursting his body into flames.


	14. Chapter 14

Felwinter was sent flying backwards, ablaze in Kazimir’s scorching Light. He fell into the snow like the burning projectile of a flare gun. He rolled multiple times, finally coming to a stop facedown. His rough landing had put the flames out, but for the next awful, agonizing moments, he couldn’t move. 

He thought he was dead. He should be dead. That was a ‘super.’ It should’ve killed him instantly. But it hadn’t. Instead, a strange energy pulsed through his body. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming and felt noticeably foreign.

Felwinter moved an arm out, feeling a painful shift in his shoulder where he was hit. He grunted, clenched a fistful of snow between his fingers, and pushed himself up with shaking arms. He was having the hardest time getting up, but through will alone, he was able to push off his knees and stand on unsteady legs.

Felwinter raised his hands to examine them. His vision was blurry, but he could make out an indigo energy flowing over his armor, much like the energy that flowed over Timur’s relic. “W-what just happened,” his voice quivered. He hated it. “Was that... That wasn’t me...”

“I don’t know what that was,” his Ghost began hesitantly. “But that definitely wasn’t you.”

His mind was racing with a billion questions that he had to immediately force away when he caught sight of Kazimir. The Warlord stood a few steps closer now, frozen mid-step as he watched him get up. 

“W-what did you jus—you just!” Kazimir stuttered, just as confused as Felwinter was. 

Felwinter stumbled forward, trying to get his sidearm out of his coat pocket, but lost his balance in the process, nearly falling into the snow. He spread his arms out, taking a moment to balance on shaking knees. What was happening to him? What was this strange energy?

Kazimir saw what he was doing. He charged at Felwinter, reaching him in three long strides. Felwinter dodged, rolling to the left to avoid him. The Warlord spun around and went to grab him again. Felwinter flicked his palm out, striking Kazimir in the ridge of his nose, breaking it. Kazimir flinched as blood splattered down to his chin and he sidestepped, swinging out a blind fist. Felwinter ducked beneath it and threw his own into the soft spot between Kazimir’s armor plates. 

Kazimir stumbled away but recovered quickly. He twisted himself back around to face Felwinter, spitting blood. “I didn’t trust you from the beginning! I should’ve killed you when Citan first brought you into our ranks!”

“You’ve tried to kill me. Many times,” Felwinter reminded. “You just never had the strength for it.”

“I know for sure I had the strength for it,” Solar Light burned in the Warlord’s eyes. He smiled a crooked smile. “I let you run! I figured something would get you eventually, or maybe you’d learn to stay away!”

Kazimir surged forward, flames in his hands. He tried to land a closed fist on Felwinter’s chin, but Felwinter back-stepped, grabbing the Warlord’s wrists. Void Light burned in Felwinter’s hands, burning the Warlord, and he screamed in both pain and fury as his hands were severed by Felwinter’s Light. Kazimir tore himself away from Felwinter, turning away. The two dead weights of the Warlord’s hands plopped into the snow, cleanly severed, no blood. 

Kazimir turned on a dime and ran at Felwinter. He tried to dodge to the side, but was body-slammed by the larger man. Felwinter slipped in the snow and fell. Kazimir dropped down to straddle him, holding him down with his stumps against his neck. Felwinter strained against the bone crushing pressure. He clawed at Kazimir’s arms, but the Warlord’s grip didn’t budge. The Warlord continued to press the stumps on the ends of his wrists harder, crushing the cords in Felwinter’s neck. 

Felwinter, losing his vision fast, glanced from the Warlord’s stumps to the Warlord’s unprotected face. He was getting nowhere trying to break the Warlord’s grip. Kazimir was using all of his strength to strangle him. He wasn’t protecting himself. 

With a grunt, Felwinter stretched an arm out to grab Kazimir’s face. His fingers locked on, tightly pulling against the Warlord’s fleshy skin. Kazimir tried to shake his head, eyes wide. The Warlord had to know what was next. Even before Void Light flowed out of his palm, Kazimir released a bloodcurdling scream. Purple veins began to spread across the Warlord’s forehead, originating from Felwinter’s palm. Kazimir’s eyes pinned back into his head, and his body began to spasm as if he was being shocked.

Felwinter continued the punishing Light until the Warlord went limp, tipping over into the snow beside him. He removed his hand from the Warlord, revealing a horrible wound. Kazimir’s superficial layer of skin had been completely removed around the area, and a giant hole had been burned into the Warlord’s skull, right where Felwinter’s palm had been. 

Felwinter reached to bring his sidearm out. Now he had to wait for Kazimir’s Ghost. 

“Kazimir! Hey! Answer me!” A faint buzz sounded from Kazimir. 

Felwinter looked closer at the dead Warlord, analyzing his corpse for the source of the voice. He leaned closer, finding a small cord wrapped around Kazimir’s ear, attached to a small mic. Felwinter pulled the cord from his ear and lifted it to his own, adjusting the mic to fit him.

“Kazimir? Kazimir what’s going on,” a scraggly male voice snapped. “Damn it, Kazimir! You still have to get me out of here!”

Felwinter listened, trying to make out the owner of the voice. “Who is this,” he asked.

The voice paused. “Felwinter,” it quivered for a moment. 

“Get you out of where,” he asked, trying to get an answer. “Where are you?” 

“Oh hell no,” the voice spoke fast. “No, no, no, no, no.” 

“Who are you?” Felwinter tried for an answer one last time, but the line had already been cut. He stared silently at the device a moment. “Ghost, track where that’s coming from.”

“Already on it,” the drone said. 

Felwinter focused back on Kazimir’s corpse, waiting for his Ghost. He couldn’t leave without a confirmed kill. 

“The transmission originates near Felwinter Peak. Within the mountain chain,” his Ghost reported. 

Felwinter gave a slight nod, still watching Kazimir. Still waiting for the drone.

“Felwinter,” His Ghost said. “I’m not picking up signs. I think his Ghost is gone.”

“Gone?” Felwinter repeated.

“Yeah. It probably didn’t approve of this,” he circled around, gesturing at the burning village. 

“Let’s get going then,” Felwinter stepped through the ashen snow towards the outer wall.

Once on the outside, his sparrow transmitted in, and he began the ride back to the archive. It was slow, neither him or his Ghost talked, and he’d tucked the receiver back into his coat. He had a lot to think about. Timur had done something to him when he’d grabbed his wrist. And, above all else, his Ghost had been right! Timur couldn’t be trusted. 

Once he reached the archive and approached the door, it swung open easily, having been reattached to its hinges. He looked inside to immediately see Timur. He was standing nearby, as if he had been expecting his approach. Timur glanced down at his body before meeting his eyes, but his smooth, know-it-all expression went unchanged. 

“You don’t look too good,” Timur said, evidence of a smirk on his face. 

“What did you do to me,” Felwinter demanded.

Timur frowned in mock confusion. “What did I do to you? I don’t recall any ‘doing.’”

Felwinter clenched his hand into a fist, snuffing out the violet Light begging for release. “I don’t have time for this. Answer the question.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked. 

“You’re not fooling me,” Felwinter snapped. His eyes glanced down to the brass pendant hanging from the Iron Lord’s neck and the indigo energy that emanated from it. 

“I’m not trying to! I don’t even know what you’re talking about. How would I be able to do something to you?”

“With this,” Felwinter made a grab for the relic hanging around Timur’s neck. 

Timur jerked away from Felwinter. Both of his arms shot out, hitting Felwinter in the chest with a blast of Arc Light. Felwinter’s body went rigid from the shock coursing though his body and he fell backward, landing hard. Just before he fully realized what had happened, Timur grabbed him by his forearms and pulled him back up to his feet, an equally shocked expression on his face. 

“My Traveler,” Timur spoke in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—“

Felwinter broke out of his grip. “How could you do this?

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—“

“No. I mean the relic. You lied to me.”

“You lied to me first,” Timur pointed out, his confident expression gone. “In fact, you should be thanking me, or at least telling me where you went so that I don’t go to the Iron Lords.”

If Timur’s not above threats, than he isn’t either. “I could go to the Iron Lords just as easily. They’d probably want to know about your relic and the power it holds.”

Timur frowned, then his eyes flashed with humor. “So, we have a stalemate then.” He laughed, “wasn’t expecting this.”

Felwinter turned away, disgusted that the Iron Lord could find humor in this.

“Wait. Where are you going,” Timur began to follow him outside.

Felwinter looked over his shoulder. “You obviously don’t understand what you did to me.”

“That’s not true,” Timur sighed. “Don’t leave, please. I know what I did was wrong, but I only did it because I wanted to protect you.”

Felwinter turned so he faced him, not hiding his indignation. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He stepped up to the threshold. “Tell me everything about your relic. I deserve that much.”

Timur sighed, but he complied, pulling the relic over his head to present it. “This is from a Wish-Dragon,” he explained. “It grants the power of one of those beasts to the wearer.” 

Ahamkara. Felwinter was familiar with the Wish-Dragons. He’d never seen one, only heard of the power and the danger they held for greedy Warlords. Timur having a relic from an Ahamkara, especially one that allowed him to make wishes himself, brought up a lot of questions, namely, how did he get it in the first place? What did he need it for? He had it with him at all times, a mysteriously powerful brass familiar, just tied around his neck. Something like that would be unspeakably dangerous if it got into the wrong hands, and who says Timur’s the right hands?

“I knew you weren’t being truthful with me, so I made a wish. I wished for you to survive the next fatal blow you received. The damage being transported to me, of course, through the relic.”

So... Timur had felt the blast of Kazimir’s hammer instead of him? Timur had taken the blow for him, saving his life. But... Timur’s wish had been blind. He had no idea where Felwinter was going or if Felwinter was betraying the Iron Lords or not. Timur took a huge risk upon himself by wishing on Felwinter.

“That doesn’t make up for it. You still enchanted me without my permission.”

“All enchantments wear off upon my death, temporary or not. So as of now, you are not enchanted in any way.”

“I don’t trust you on that. With how easily you put a spell on me before, there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again.”

“What if I gave you your own relic?” Timur offered. “I could enchant it so that you’ll be aware of any spell I cast?”

Felwinter didn’t answer.

“Or do you not trust me with that?”

“No.”

Timur nodded. “Understandable.” He glanced up to meet his eyes and Felwinter could hear the question coming before he said it. “Could you at least tell me what’s going on?”

Timur watched silently, waiting a reply, and for the longest time, Felwinter wasn’t going to give one. What gave Timur the right to enchant him for answers? Nothing. In fact, telling him anything would only encourage more enchanting in the future. Even if Timur saved him. 

Still, the Iron Lord had saved him, and he’d seemed pretty apologetic about it too. Maybe telling Timur wouldn’t be a bad idea. Timur had told him his secret. There was nothing keeping Felwinter from telling the Iron Lords now, but he probably wouldn’t. He’d just have to hope Timur wouldn’t either.

“I killed Citan. Not because of an ambush. Not because he attacked me first. I killed him because that’s what I planned from the beginning.”


	15. Chapter 15

Felwinter held Timur’s gaze, prepared for the worst, prepared for a fight, prepared for the Iron Lord’s hands to shoot Arc Light at his chest again. He was prepared for anything really. He was prepared to leave right now. He wouldn’t be able to go back to his mountain because he’d turned the territory over to the Iron Lords, but he’d figure something out. 

However, Timur hadn’t said a word yet, and when he finally spoke, all he said was, “We should probably get inside.”

Timur stepped to the side to allow Felwinter to enter, and together, they headed back to the study area. Two of the small desks had been dragged together to make a table, and Timur was quick to drag chairs over for both himself and Felwinter before sitting down.

“I don’t mean to press, but I’m going to have to know more,” Timur sat adjacent to him, resting his hands on the table between them. “What made you decide to kill Citan? There had to be a reason.”

How would he even begin to explain? 

“I had history with him, as you probably know,” Felwinter started. “Citan found me days after my revival, in the middle of his territory. I reckon he would’ve killed me if I wasn’t alone or on the run with no place to go. He offered me protection and in turn, I would serve him. I took the offer.”

Timur was listening closely, watching him intently. “I’m guessing this is when things take a turn for the worse?”

Felwinter gave a slight nod. “For awhile, there were no problems. Citan ruled strictly but fairly. He’d patrol his territory, protecting his people from raiders and the occasional Fallen patrol.” Felwinter’s eyes grew dark. “When the settlements couldn’t pay tribute, that’s when Citan would become tyrannous.”

“Do I dare ask what happened?” Timur said, pressing Felwinter to continue without requesting it verbally. 

“The winter had been harsh one year. It came and took everything, and a certain village couldn’t pay up.” Felwinter paused. “What made it worse was that there were rumors this village was hiding Risen of their own, which is universally forbidden by Warlords. Upon hearing this, Citan never gave them a chance. He set his soldiers loose on the village and they burned it to the ground.”

Timur frowned. “Those ‘soldiers’ sound like savages.”

Felwinter glanced up, meeting Timur’s eyes. “I was one of them.”

“You were,” Timur asked with a tinge of surprise. 

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d told myself for so long that following Citan’s orders was the right thing, that during this attack it felt like I was seeing clearly for the first time.” Felwinter glanced away from Timur, locking his gaze to the corner of the table. “If I had been smart, I would’ve deserted him right then and there, but I didn’t. I stayed with him for years after that attack.” 

Now Timur knows how weak he was in the past. How shameful... What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking at all? He’d stayed with Citan, a murderous Warlord, supporting him in his endeavors, and watched the corruption before his eyes. Not once had he done anything to stop Citan. He’d let it happen, completely aware of all the violence. He’d watch Citan’s soldiers, his friends, storm around the sector, doing whatever they pleased, while he’d done nothing, and now Timur knew about it. It’s ironic, Timur being the only Iron Lord that’s bothered to get to know him, is now just like the other Iron Lords: Wary and closed-off with suspicion.

A hand reached out to lay gently atop of Felwinter’s. He allowed his gaze to rise and meet Timur’s eyes, who gave his knuckles a light, reassuring squeeze. “I may not be able to relate to your exact experiences,” Timur began. “But I know corruption and I know manipulation, and above all, I know you.” Timur paused, glancing down at the table a moment, where his hand laid over Felwinter’s. “You did what you had to do, and now, Citan will never return. He’s dead.”

“That’s the problem.”

“What is?” Timur asked. 

Felwinter felt himself physically sliding his hand from Timur’s, but mentally, he didn’t want to let go. He liked this contact, as little as it was. He’s an Exo, a Voidwalker. It feels as if he spends most his days trapped inside an impenetrable barrier. Physical contact has always been during times of war, the touches always being painful. To have Timur holding his hand was a sensation he’d rarely, if at all, felt himself before, and he didn’t want it to end. But the touch still felt strange to him, and his body unconsciously dragging his hand from Timur was a sign that he wasn’t physically ready yet. 

Felwinter slid his hand to his lap, beneath the table and away from Timur’s reach. “I believe I’ve started a war. I’m unsure of the details, but I know that something is definitely happening in Citan’s chain of command.” He glanced at Timur. “That’s the whole reason I came: To track down his top soldiers.”

Timur leaned back in his chair. “To give them the same fate as Citan?” 

“That’s the plan,” he answered. That’s all he was going to say. Timur didn’t need to know anything else about his life. He stared at Timur, forcing him to meet his serious expression. “The Iron Lords can’t know about this. I need you to cover for me.”

Timur shook his head with a smirk. “There’s no way I can do that and keep a clean conscience.”

“Why not?” Felwinter demanded, the feeling of betrayal rising in his chest. His Ghost was right. He really can’t trust Timur...

His reaction only made the Iron Lord smirk harder. “Because I’d rather go with you.”

Felwinter froze, unsure of what Timur meant by going with him. 

“You can’t do this alone,” Timur continued. “You already would’ve died if it hadn’t been for me, and personally, I think we make a great team. So what do you say,” Timur asked, excitement sparkling in his eyes. 

Felwinter could feel the faintest smile breaking the surface of his icy exterior, but he forced it back. Timur’s offer was presented in a way which suggested he only wished to help Felwinter, yet he knew Timur could be wanting to go with him for purely selfish reasons. Still, extra eyes would be beneficial in tracking down his targets, although, there was a chance he could just slow him down.

Before Felwinter could open his mouth to speak, another voice cut into the conversation. “Um. No. He’s not going with us,” Felwinter’s Ghost flashed into view. “Felwinter tell him ‘no.’”

Felwinter gave his Ghost a poisonous glare before looking back to Timur. “You can come.”

Felwinter’s Ghost twitched. “What?” He spun around to face Timur. “If you wouldn’t mind, I think my Risen and I need to have another talk in private.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Felwinter spoke up, eyes flickering over to Timur. “He’s coming with us.”

His Ghost flashed out of view, muttering something to himself. 

Felwinter noticed excitement sparkling in the Iron Lord’s eyes. “I wouldn’t get excited yet. It will be risky. We both face final deaths.”

“Up until now you were prepared to face that risk alone,” Timur reminded. “I like my odds better with you.”


	16. Chapter 16

By the first rays of sunlight, Felwinter and Timur were back in the ship, strapped in, and ready to take off. 

Timur fired up the engines and allowed the ship to hover in the air just above the trees. He flicked a few of the switches to prepare the ship for flight. “Where do we need to go,” he asked. 

“The Ural Mountains. Near Felwinter Peak,” he answered. “I received a transmission while I was away and that’s where it came from.”

“That’s kind of close to Iron Lord territory,” Timur pointed out. 

“It is, but there’s no reason the Iron Lords should get involved,” Felwinter answered the question he could sense forming at the edge of Timur’s mind.

Timur nodded, refusing to argue, and returned his gaze forward. “Is there anything else I should know before we get there?”

“Hold that thought,” the feminine voice of Timur’s Ghost sounded for the first time since they’d been in the City. “The Iron Lords are trying to get into contact, should I put them through?”

Timur’s eyes flicked over to her. “Yeah. Redirect it to the speakers, would you please,” he tapped a free hand against the ship’s main control panel. 

“Hey, Timur, where are you right now?” It was Lady Perun speaking. 

“Felwinter and I are at the western end of Old Russia, revisiting some older archives.” Timur answered. It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth to pass.

“Alright, sounds good.”

Felwinter couldn’t help feeling disgusted at how friendly Perun sounded, and how little information she was trying to get out of him. Timur hadn’t contacted the Iron Lords, as far as he knew, in over a day, yet Perun seemed to care less. If only Felwinter got the same treatment... He’s gone for more than an hour and the word “traitor” gets thrown around. 

“Anything wrong?” Timur asked.

Felwinter looked up, thinking that Timur was speaking to him, but he was still talking to Perun through the radio. Felwinter looked away from him, letting his eyes fall on the radar and the circle expanding out to the edges of the screen.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Perun answered Timur. “Skorri just told us you’d be back sooner, as in the morning. I just have to know if that’s happening, because I’ve got to schedule the weekly patrols by noon.”

“Felwinter and I will most definitely be gone another day. Week?” He glanced at Felwinter for confirmation. “Don’t put either of us on duty for a couple weeks to be safe.”

Perun sighed, but it was more out of mock annoyance. “Alright then. I’ll find replacements pronto. You two get back to whatever you’re doing, and make sure you keep me posted, I’m always making last minute arrangements.”

“We’ll let you know when we’re coming back,” Timur said before he shut down the communications line. 

A dot flashed into view at the edge of the radar. Felwinter blinked, opening his eyes to see that the dot was gone. He squinted, looking closer at the radar. His eyes traced the central circle as if expanded, and he followed it down to the edge of the screen. The second it reached the edge, the dot appeared again. 

“Now, where were we—“

“Did you see that?” Felwinter cut him off. 

“See what?” Timur looked at the radar. 

“There was a blip,” Felwinter pointed, tracing his finger straight down the screen. “Just at the edge, trailing behind us.”

The circle expanded once again, and when it reached the edge, the same dot appeared. This time only partially visible, falling further behind. 

“You’re right,” Timur’s brow furrowed at the screen. “We’re being followed.” 

“We should speed up so we’re off their radar,” Felwinter suggested. “Scouting ships often have extra sensors though... We’ll have to hope we can outpace them.”

Timur seemed oddly distracted as he controlled the ship, deep in his own thoughts. “No. I think we should continue forward and see what our tail does.”

“That’s a horrible plan,” Felwinter snapped, but it came out softer than he’d intended. They should do something now while they have the chance. Why give their tail the choice?

“They’re far behind us, see,” Timur gestured at the radar as he explained. “There’s a chance they haven’t seen us yet, and even if they have, I don’t believe they’ll do anything.” 

That kind of thinking is an easy way to get killed...

“Just think about it: Our tail has probably been following us since the archive, maybe even sooner. As... horrifying that may seem, we both had an uneasy feeling going in there.”

“How does that change anything?” Felwinter easily became frustrated with Timur. 

“The ‘assassin’ could’ve waited for our guard to lower, or for you to leave, to strike. However, they didn’t,” Timur explained. “I think there’s a good chance they’re trying to get information from us, and are following us for the purpose of seeing where we’re going.”

“So we just let them do it?” Felwinter asked. Timur was awfully calm for their current situation.

“Well, no. We’re not going to show them where we’re going,” Timur took manual control over the controls. “First, we’re going to land.”

“No,” Felwinter halted him. 

“Why?”

“Not here,” he said. “You can’t just land without knowing where you are. This is Warlord territory beneath us.” 

“Where?” Timur leaned forward to trace his eyes across the land below them. 

Felwinter barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Everywhere. All of Old Russia is Warlord territory.” Not exactly true, there were several neutral strips of land and the Mountain Trail, but Timur didn’t have to know that. “This land leading out of the forest was previously Citan’s domain.”

“It was,” Timur seemed to look at the land below him with a new interest. “So this was where you patrolled back when you were still with Citan?”

“It—” Felwinter cut himself off. He just stared at Timur for a moment, peculiarly shocked at how Timur’s question hadn’t been mean-spirited, but off genuine curiosity. Felwinter regained himself, “Yes.”

“How much territory did Citan hold? In his prime?” Timur asked. 

“He had an empire under his command. His territory stretched from the forests to our south up to the north, to the land of an ancient city known as St. Petersburg.” Felwinter’s eyes flickered back to the radar, and the single dot, ominously keeping its distance. 

“We should head up there before we’re done here,” Timur said, leaning back in his seat. “I can’t help but be amazed at the grandeur of old cities, and the many antiques to collect.” He paused. “Have I ever told you about my time in Old Ireland?”

“Are you stalling?” Felwinter asked, glancing from Timur to the radar.

“It’s probable,” Timur murmured. 

“Give me the controls,” Felwinter unstrapped himself and stood, leaning against the seat to balance himself.

“I suggest you sit back down,” Timur kept an eye on him as he continued to pilot the jumpship. 

Felwinter reached forward to snag a hold of the controls. His hand locked around the control column and he forced it towards the panel, sending the ship into a plunge. The ship dived towards the treetops and Felwinter was just able to flick a switch, banking the ship to the right to avoid crashing into the trees. 

Timur knocked him away with a strong arm and regained control. He slowed the ship to a hover just above the forest. When the ship was completely still, Timur glared at him, visibly angry in a way that clashed with his usual confidence. 

“What do you think you’re doing,” Timur frowned. “This is my jumpship. You may be able to fly, but you can’t just fly it without my permission.”

“We have to gain some distance to break the tracker,” Felwinter defended is actions. He pointed at the empty radar, “apparently it worked, because they backed off.”

For the course of a minute, Timur kept up his anger, but it wasn’t long after before he dropped it, returning to his usual self. The Iron Lord sighed, returning his eyes forward. “Let’s get back on track.” He spun the ship around to head back the way they were going, to the mountains near Felwinter Peak. 

Felwinter took his seat, crossing his arms over his lap as he did. 

“Did you know who that was?” Timur asked once his anger had dissipated. 

“No,” Felwinter answered truthfully. 

Timur nodded, but still pressed. “Why were you so quick to take over and nearly crash my ship?” The mentioning of his ship didn’t come out with any hostility. 

Felwinter glanced at him. He was still deciding whether to answer or not. He sighed, “I’ve dealt with enough hired guns to be tired of them.”

“After your split with Citan?”

Felwinter narrowed his eyes at the Iron Lord. “Why do you care?”

Timur shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“That’s a lot of questions to be asking...” Felwinter murmured. People nowadays don’t ask too many questions unless they’re looking for a fight. He knew Timur’s questions were harmless and he really didn’t mind him asking, but as harmless as they were, they still made him uneasy. He tells Timur a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t. 

What if his Ghost was right? What if Timur’s not to be trusted. Maybe Timur’s whole offer to take him to the Mothyards was just a ploy to get him talking. They haven’t been to the Mothyards yet, only to the border wall before the blizzard stopped them. Maybe the reason Timur wasn’t so disappointed was because he didn’t need the Mothyards to achieve his plans. He could still offer to take him wherever he needed and still get enough information to pass on to the Iron Lords. 

“I’ve never had an assassin sent to kill me,” Timur continues, snapping Felwinter out of his thoughts. He pushes them back and focusing on Timur. The Iron Lord sounds as if it’s an honor to have someone attempt to murder you for a stack of Glimmer. 

“Better to be dangerous than dead,” Felwinter says, pushing a warning into his voice.

Timur doesn’t break his light, talkative move. He just nods. “From what I’ve heard about you, you’re pretty dangerous,” he smirked. 

“Very.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have to mark this fic as on-hiatus. I haven't abandoned it, but unfortunately, other projects are more important to me right now.


	17. Chapter 17

Felwinter couldn’t help but feel paranoid. He wants to believe Timur’s here for the right reasons, but some part of him knows there’s a chance he isn’t. 

Timur’s friendly, and thoughtful, and that’s nice and all, but Timur’s also clever. He reads the room with the precision of a sniper, and he adjusts accordingly. Timur’s behavior could very well be a facade, and it bothers Felwinter. Not just that Timur could be treating him unrealistically and luring him into a false sense of security, but because this will mean his Ghost was right all along, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

Beyond the windshield, his eyes traced alongside the mountaintops, following them. They were nearing their destination in the mountains, and soon they would find the source of the transmission, the lead, the man who was communicating with Kazimir. This mystery man could be gone when they show up, but from the words the man had spurted out, he knew the man was trapped somewhere. Where and how, he had no idea, but he did know that Timur couldn’t be there when he found the man. 

“I’m turning the ship back around,” Timur announced. “This area’s too uneven to land.”

“That’s fine,” Felwinter said absently. In his mind, he was trying to piece together a request for Timur to stay behind. 

Timur began to bring the ship down until it hovered over the snowy landscape. “Is this good?” He asked. “It will be a walk.”

“It won’t be a problem for me,” Felwinter said. It truly wouldn’t. He’d lived on a mountain half his life. Climbing was second nature to him. 

Once the ship landed, Felwinter rose from the seat. He watched Timur as he shut down the ship’s systems. “You may want to leave a few of those on.”

“Why’s that,” Timur’s eyes flicked up to meet his. 

“I think you should stay with the ship,” Felwinter answered. 

Timur’s face grew serious. “I should go with you,” He argued. “You might need me,” he lifted his brass familiar. “Or my magic.”

He didn’t need Timur’s magic. He could defend himself.

“Stay with the ship,” Felwinter didn’t sway. “Loners and rogues are very common in this area. It wouldn’t make sense to leave the ship unguarded.” Especially since there’s a chance they were tracked here...

“Alright, that’s a logical reason, but what about you?” Timur asked. “I don’t want you to get attacked without backup.”

Felwinter ignored the look of concern in Timur’s eyes. It could very well be faked. “If I’m not back in ten minutes you can come after me. I will not be that long.”

Timur still looked unsure, but he nodded in agreement. “Ten minutes and I’ll come and meet you,” he turned back to the control panel and flicked on the main power. “Not a minute longer.”

Felwinter gathered his things and was quick to leave. He accessed the panel at the back of the hold and opened the back ramp to step out into the snow. At the chill of winter air outside, he began to feel a tinge if regret. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh. Timur was only looking out for him. He should go back in, apologize, and let him come...

The hold shutting behind him was enough of an answer. This was for him alone, not Timur. 

“Can you pick up any signals?” Felwinter asked his Ghost.

“Hold on, give me a second. I’m not a GPS,” his Ghost snapped. “Nope. No radio waves, but I’m picking up a signature. Someone’s nearby.”

“Where?”

“Over there, right by those jagged rocks,” he answered. “Be on your guard. It’s a Risen.”

Felwinter began forward, shotgun in hand. He flattened his boot against the top of the snow with each step, testing the strength. The snow had a sheet of ice over it, hardening the snow. He’d be able to walk across it as long as he evened his weight. The rocks pierced out of the mountain like jagged teeth, and from their position, they would be out of view of the ship. 

“It’s inside the mountain,” his Ghost’s tone was full of question. 

As Felwinter approached the jagged formations, he could see that they were further down the mountain than they’d originally appeared. If he were to continue walking straight towards them, he’d slide right down the mountain. He’d need to climb higher and drop down on one of the teeth from above. 

“No, there’s a cave,” his Ghost corrected himself. “The Risen’s inside.”

“I can see that,” Felwinter glided down to the nearest jagged rock, nearly slipping on the icy surface. 

The rocks framed an opening in the side of the mountain, large enough for him to fit through. He twisted around to face the opening and leaned forward to see inside. The cave was dark with no interior light sources, but he could make out the edges of the room. The small opening expanded outwards into a chamber, large enough to hold several fully-armored Risen comfortably. That fact worried him. 

“You better go in there,” his Ghost whispered. “They’re definitely inside.”

Felwinter leaned farther inside, squinting to make out the back of the cave. “Who’s in there?” He snapped. 

Something shifted against the stone floor. 

Felwinter fully entered the cave, holding his shotgun close and at the ready. “I know you can see me,” he said. “Come out.”

He stepped closer, each thump of his footfalls echoing across the walls, louder than the howling wind outside. He began to hear breathing, not his own, but someone else’s. Another step and a silhouette lunged at him with a crackle of Arc Light. The Light blinded Felwinter and he flinched, stepping backward to raise his shotgun to the figure. His finger pulled against the trigger to fire, but he paused. His attacker had abruptly stopped before reaching him. 

The Risen let out a noise akin to a growl as he strained to reach Felwinter, but something held him back by his wrists, stretching them behind him in a painful position. His attacker gave up. He backed up to the cave wall behind him, adding slack to his wrists as well as allowing Felwinter to see the thick, black chains that were welded to the wall behind him. 

“I’ve been waiting so, so long for this,” the man spoke with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Hjallkar,” Felwinter asked, nearly unable to recognize the Risen in his unkempt state. 

“Surprised,” Hjallkar asked, his voice no less than a snarl. “I knew you would be. After all, it should be you in these chains, and NOT ME!” 

Hjallkar moved further away, letting the chain go loose. Felwinter continued to watch the other Risen as he paced around the cave, changing the chains against the stone floor. 

He could feel uneasiness rising in his chest at the thought of himself in Hjallkar’s position. “What did I do to deserve your chains? I left. I had no will over your imprisonment.” 

“Don’t be so ignorant,” Hjallkar snapped, spinning around to point at him. “You might’ve left, but you didn’t disappear! Your actions had consequences that we all had to pay for!” 

“Actions?”

“Your betrayal,” Hjallkar snapped again. “Citan blamed ME for it! He claimed I was conspiring with you—hah—ME, his mastermind!” Hjallkar broke out into a fit of laughter. “What an idiot. What a DEAD idiot!” 

Hjallkar spun around to catch Felwinter’s gaze. “Oh, yes, yes, yes. We all know about that. We know it was you! Back from the dead! First Citan, now Kazimir, and now—“ he cut himself off, his amber eyes going wide. “You’re here to kill me!” 

“I’m—“

“You blasted machine!” Hjallkar backed against the cave wall. “If you think you’re just going to come back after all these years and finish me off then you’ve got another thing coming!” 

Hjallkar stretched his arms out at Felwinter. Arc Light swelled at his hands like veins and spread down his forearms. Immediately, his Light connected to the chains and lit them up in a bright cyan glow. Hjallkar screamed as his body went rigid from his own Light being redirected back into his body. Hjallkar lowered his hands and collapsed, struggling to breathe. He glanced down at his hands in defeat. 

The chains conducted Hjallkar’s Arc Light, serving as an incentive for him not to use his Light. If he did, he would hurt himself to the point of nearly killing himself. The chains were essentially frying him with his own Light. 

“Just do it. Kill me,” Hjallkar spat. He lifted his chin towards the ceiling, exposing his neck. “You’d only be doing me a favor.” 

“I’m not here to kill you,” Felwinter lied. 

“Oh... Really? Because I’ve wanted you dead for so many years.” Hjallkar snapped, lunging at him again. “I’ve wanted to have your machine core ripped out, the cords in your neck slashed, your spine broken! I’ve wanted to puncture your ribs and watch as you drown in your own fluid!” Hjallkar viciously clawed at the space between himself and Felwinter, orchestrating his malicious fantasies. “I-I wanted to show you what all these years of torment felt like...” his hands dropped through the air all of a sudden. His angered ranting had tired him out. “Yet, I find for the strangest reason these desires are fleeting...”

Hjallkar began to pace again. “I’m not sure whether to be content or furious at you. You killed my captor, but at the same time, you killed my only way out of here.” 

“Kazimir wouldn’t have helped you,” Felwinter stated.

“You don’t know that!” Hjallkar screamed. 

“Maybe not. But I know your chains were Solar-forged. Most likely by Kazimir himself.” 

“I don’t care!” Hjallkar jumped, rattling his chains. “He promised me! A-and he promised he’d kill you! Kill you! He should’ve killed you!” Hjallkar slumped down, allowing his head to fall into his hands. His shoulders began to shake and he choked back a pained noise.

“He’s not stable,” a voice, Felwinter’s Ghost, whispered beside him. “Now would be the time to strike.” 

Felwinter watched Hjallkar from where he huddled against the wall, covering his face. Hjallkar had his back to him, unable to see what Felwinter would do, and unable to defend himself from an attack. He was a sitting duck, chained to the wall. Felwinter could lift his shotgun and shoot the man right now, take out his Ghost, and leave him here. Timur would never have to know.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to put this out a bit earlier than I originally planned.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hjallkar still sobbed, head in his hands. It would be so easy to shoot him...

“How... How long have you been up here?” Felwinter asked. “Alone?”

Hjallkar sniffed, “ever since you deserted us!” He wiped a tear, throwing Felwinter a hateful glare. “And I was never alone for long, if it makes you feel any better! Citan would ‘visit’ me, once a month. Scream at me, kill me! Over and over! I’d always pretend he was doing it to you!”

Hjallkar’s words disgusted him. For multiple reasons: Citan’s abuse, both verbally and physically, Hjallkar’s disassociative coping mechanism, and just seeing Hjallkar chained, barely able to defend himself. The Risen was breaking down right in front of him. He had to do something. 

“Look. If you’re just here to rub it in then leave!” Hjallkar paused a moment, listening to the silence. “Why are you still here,” he snapped his head up, revealing his wetted face. 

“I might be able to get you out,” Felwinter said. He tucked his shotgun back into his coat and reached for Hjallkar. The other Risen instinctively jumped backwards. 

“No, no, no no no! Get those hands away from me,” Hjallkar pointed a crooked finger at him. “I don’t want your Void Light.” 

Felwinter sighed. “Do you want to get out?”

“Er...Why would you help me?” Hjallkar narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

Felwinter didn’t have a concise answer, just a feeling. “No one deserves this. You’re too close to Iron Lord territory anyway.”

Hjallkar scowled, crossing his arms. “Second you get a hold of me, you’re going to vaporize me. So no. Go back to whatever Iron Wolf business you were doing, because I’m NOT falling for it!”

Felwinter inhaled a quick breath, steadying himself. “If I was going to vaporize you, I would just do it. I wouldn’t try to gain your trust for—for what, exactly?”

Hjallkar pushed off the wall and began to list with his hands. “First, to make it easy on yourself, second, to please the soft side the Iron Wolves have tainted you with, and third, to humiliate me even more!” He spat at the stone floor in front of Felwinter.

“Fine. I’m not dealing with this.” Felwinter turned around and began to walk back to the jagged enternece. 

No more than a moment later, a high-pitched wail calles after him. “Wait! Please get me out of here!”

Felwinter looked over his shoulder, meeting the desperate, bloodshot eyes of the chained Risen. 

Hjallkar pulled against the chains, his boots scrabbling on the stone floor as he tried to inch closer. "P-Please! Y-You don't know how long I've been up here! I'm going crazy! I am crazy! I wanna just k-kill someone! P-Please help me!"

He causiously began towards the chained Risen in case he tried something, but even as he got closer, Hjallkar didn't make a move to attack.

Hjallkar stiffened. “Just... Do it quickly, a-and just do it! I’ve done my research on the Void and I’m in no mood to be hearing voices!”

Felwinter opened his mouth to correct Hjallkar’s false conceptions but he stopped himself. Maybe it would be beneficial for Hjallkar to fear the Void and, in extension, him. 

Felwinter paused, just out of Hjallkar’s range. “There’s a condition to my assistance.”

Hjallkar rolled his eyes. “Condition...”

“If I help you, you’re gone,” Felwinter told him. “You head as far away from here as you can because, if I ever see you again, I will not show mercy a second time.” 

"Fine," Hjallkar snarled. "It's not like I'm going to stay for long anyway. There's nothing for me here anymore! Kazimir's dead!"

Felwinter ignored the Risen's as he lowered himself beside him and looped the chains over his palms. He slowly worked his hands through the loops and towards Hjallkar's wrists so he could use the Void to pull them through. As he worked, he tried to get more information our of Hjallkar that could possibly lead him to another target. “Why would Kazimir agree to rescue you?”

Hjallkar glared at him. “He didn’t approve of my wrongful imprisonment in the first place! He warred with Citan on the matter! He’d... He’d visit me too..." His voice lowered, gaining a tenderness he'd never known it to have. "He'd come mostly after he knew Citan had been here, and he’d help me. He’d bring me gifts sometimes but I, um—“ Hjallkar noticed Felwinter's interest and stopped, moving on. 

“At Citan’s death, Kazimir attempted to claim the territory and get me out, but Kodiak wanted the territory more. So they began to fight each other and ruin everything! Kazimir promised to stage a rescue mission into enemy lines but... then you murdered him, so that’s that.”

“He burned down a village,” Felwinter said, ignoring the bite in Hjallkar’s words. “He killed hundreds.” 

“That was one of Kodiak’s villages, idiot!” Hjallkar strained. 

So in that case it’s justified... He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t one of his. You were lied to,” he said, recalling the receiver and the chatter between Kodiak’s forces. “Kazimir was under siege, his defenses were failing. He burned down his own village so Kodiak couldn’t claim it.”

“What?” Hjallkar’s jaw dropped open. He shook his head of snarled hair. “I don’t believe you! If he was in control of that village he would’ve rescued me! He was close enough to rescue me! You’re lying!”

“Believe what you want,” Felwinter undid the chain links; tearing them apart through the use of the Void. Hjallkar stumbled away from the wall, still shocked at this news. “I never want to see you again,” Felwinter took out his shotgun, just in case.

Hjallkar eyed the weapon, his shock turning to anger. “Oh, trust me, if I ever see you again it’ll be too soon!” He spun around to stumble to the cave entrance on wobbling legs and disappeared into the storm outside. 

With Hjallkar gone, Felwinter’s Ghost flashed into view beside him. “You really just let him go?” He stared at him with an expression that could only be interpreted as confusion.

“He was chained up,” Felwinter said simply.

“It would’ve been so easy to just shoot him. He had nowhere to go.”

Felwinter blinked, holding his eyes closed. “I know that... But that’s something Citan would do, not me.” 

His Ghost glanced at the entrance. “You know this isn’t the last of him. He’s going to come after you.”

“It’s the middle of a Russian winter. He is running on fumes and has no Ghost for when he drops dead. Hjallkar won’t be a problem,” Felwinter assured him, but in truth, something had come over him when he saw Hjallkar’s deteriorated state. Responsibility had washed over him at the Risen’s accusations, and he had to let him go.

His Ghost drifted in front of him to stare into his eyes. “Surely you haven’t forgotten what he’s done?” 

Felwinter blinked to adjust his focus on the drone. “I haven’t.” Hjallkar was terrible. He helped Citan with all of his planning, all of his conquests and battles. 

Hjallkar never served Citan on the battlefield, only off of it. Part of Felwinter believed that Hjallkar never really knew what he was doing. He never saw the faces of his victims like Felwinter had been forced to. He was just doing a job, which is still no excuse. No matter, Hjallkar has been suffering for his crimes, locked up by the same man he pledged allegiance to all those years ago. 

“I think the Iron Lords are rubbing off on you.”

"They are not," he glared. 

“Hey, relax. I meant it more as a compliment. Sheesh," his Ghost spun above his shoulder. "Now let's get back to your boyfriend."

He threw his Ghost another glare but didn't say anything as he maneuvered over the uneven ground back to Timur's jumpship. When he got close enough over the sharp rocks, he could see the Iron Lord standing against the landing gear, hand above his eyes as he tried to find him in the rough weather. 

When Timur spotted him, he began forward, meeting him part of the way. 

“The ship is currently low on fuel,” He said as he approached. 

“It is?” He asked. 

Timur nodded. “I knew beforehand, but I decided not to tell you before you went in there,” he said with a smirk. “An attempt to not weaken your morale.” 

Felwinter was still looking at the ship, watching Timur out of the corner of his eye. “What does this mean for us?”

“A quick trip back to the city, at the most," he shrugged. 

“I really don’t want to go back there,” Felwinter groaned. 

Timur frowned sympathetically. “We wouldn’t have to if there was another option, but there’s not.” His eyes sparkled with humor. "At the very least, you'll still have me."

Felwinter felt his shoulders tighten. That was what he was worried about: being with Timur. Having time to waste... 

"Anyway," Timur continued. "Did you find who sent the transmission?”

Felwinter paused before answering. “No. There was only a corpse.”

Timur’s brow furrowed. “Oh?”

Felwinter nodded. “I decided to bury them,” he lied. “Sorry for taking long.”

“There’s no problem with that... I would’ve helped you bury them you know?” He could hear confusion in Timur’s voice as he dueled with sympathy and disbelief. Obviously Timur didn’t entirely believe him.

“No. This was something I had to do myself. I had to be the one to bury him.”

A long pause from Timur. “Well, I can understand the necessity to personally finish off a chapter of your life. I’d hope it was a satisfying ending?”

“It was,” he nodded.

Hopefully Hjallkar wouldn’t crawl out of his “grave” to bite him in the ass...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can neither confirm nor deny if this is the last we’ll be seeing of Hjallkar...


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a time skip for this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

With the lack of a lead, Felwinter had wasted four days... Four precious days he could’ve been using to find Citan’s former associates... Gone... Wasted... And there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Just like they'd planned, he and Timur had arrived back at the City to refuel the jumpship and check in with the other Iron Lords. Originally, they’d been prepared to continue on with their hunt, except now they had no lead. So, to Felwinter’s enormous annoyance, they were stuck in the City until one was found. 

So far, no luck.

What a damn waste of time... 

Felwinter shifted where he laid, unable to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. It was about midday and the sun’s rays were at the perfect angle to pierce through the drawn blinds. Yet, he still attempted to sleep. 

Sleeping passed the time quick enough and, as an added bonus, didn’t require a conversation to initiate. He did not feel like talking to anyone, anyway. All he wanted to do was listen for his receiver and anything that’s being transmitted, so it was especially annoying when he heard a light rap of knuckles on his door. 

“Who’s there?” He pushed up on his elbows and lifted his head. 

“You know,” Timur answered. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” Felwinter quickly glanced down at himself to make sure he was fully armored, then kicked the thin bedsheet that laid over his legs off of himself, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. 

The door creaked open slowly and Timur peeked his face around before entering. “Were you asleep?” He asked with a smirk. 

“No,” Felwinter said, looking away. He could feel the plating on his face heat up. Why was it doing that? He cycled his vents, “I was awake. Just resting.”

“Ah,” Timur nodded in understanding. He stepped beside the bed and patted an empty spot. “Mind if I sit here?”

His eyes flickered back to Timur. "Fine," he answered and shifted his knees closer to himself to provide more room for the Iron Lord. "We have no new information to go off of," Felwinter quickly reported.

The olive-skinned man nodded. "I figured that would be the case."  
Felwinter continued to watch the man as he settled in, back resting against the wooden wall. He wondered why Timur was staying and whether or not he was waiting for permission to leave. But this was Timur. He didn't need to be told to leave, and if he wanted to, he would. The question was if Felwinter wanted him to leave, and on that, he was unsure. 

"I wouldn't worry about it though," Timur continued. "New leads will come up eventually." 

Felwinter's eyes narrowed. So easy for him to say... He doesn't know anything about these monsters they're after... 

"And..." Timur paused, prompting Felwinter's eyes to flick over to him. The man smirked, leaning closer. "By the off chance we don't come up with a lead..." He lifted the brass familiar around his neck. "I could potentially track them."

Felwinter sat up straight. "Why weren't you doing that before?" He grunted, clearing his throat to make his voice gentler. "Why haven't we been doing that?"

"Well, as I've told you before, it can be dangerous," Timur's smile faded. "Ahamkara magic is like a shot in the dark, except, we have all the means to hit the target, but no means to see what we might've disturbed," he paused. "It's risky."

"You didn't spare the risk with me," Felwinter pointed out, unable to hide the bitterness.

"Because I created risk for myself," he simply stated. "I connected us temporarily. Any hurt to you would be applied to me. Any death would be mine, and when I die, the enchantment disappears." A longer pause. "I take great care to not hurt those I'm close to."

Those I'm close to... Felwinter pushed Timur's statement to the back of his mind before he derived any kind of unintended meaning. "Could you try to create risk again," he asked. “So we are aware and planning for what we could potentially ‘disturb’.”

"I could try," Timur nodded. "Hm... We'll need a map. Lady Perun should have a spare. Come downstairs with me?" He asked, eyes sparkling with a newfound cleverness.

Felwinter nodded, following Timur out of his room and down to the lower level. They didn’t run into any other Iron Lords on their way. Most of them were out in the City training or resting. Good. He didn’t mind the absence of the others’ company...

“Here we are,” Timur said as he entered Perun’s map room. He stopped beside the main table and reached underneath it to grab a rolled up map. “She definitely wouldn’t mind,” he rolled it out on the table.

Felwinter watched Timur’s hands as they trailed the edge of the paper. His fingers were bent from the pressure he pressed with and when Felwinter looked up to the other Iron Lord’s face he could see intense concentration.

“There,” Timur said aloud after a long moment of silence.

"What did you do?" He asked.

Timur lifted the map with a grin. "I created a secured investment. This map will pinpoint the location of anyone's name you write onto it. The risk comes from... Well, if anyone were to get a hold of it..."

"They could use it to find us," Felwinter finished for him. He’d by lying if he said he wasn’t a little hesitant at such a powerful tool.

"Yes," Timur lowered the map back to the table. "We'll just have to be careful with it. Care to try it out?" He gestured at the map.

Felwinter reached forward and grasped at one of the pens. He lifted it without hesitation and immediately wrote a name into the corner of the map.

Kodiak

The dark ink began to shift, coming together in a thick blob as it travelled across the page. 

“It’s working,” Felwinter watched as the blob continued to move.

“Of course it is,” Timur seemed to pulse with pride as he watched the blob come to a stop. “There he is... Care to try another?”

Felwinter lifted the pen again and wrote down another name.

Hjallkar

The ink shifted again, moving closer and closer to where Kodiak's ink was until the two combined. 

No...

Hjallkar met up with Kodiak. That, or he got caught. Either or, Hjallkar was under the control of Kodiak now, which was not good. Kodiak's violence and Hjallkar's scheming went together like screaming non-Risen and burning villages...

"Hm..." Timur shifted closer beside him. "It shouldn't clot like that. There must be something wrong with it..."

"No," Felwinter was still staring at the ink blob. "It's working perfectly." He straightened to meet Timur's eyes. "We need to leave and get over there right now."

"Wait, hold on a second," a cocktail of apprehension began to rise from Timur. "Who do those names belong to?"

"I'll tell you on the way, we just have to leave now."

"Why? What's wrong?" When Felwinter didn't answer, he reached out and grabbed a gentle hold of his shoulder. "Felwinter, what's going on?"

Felwinter just shook his head. This was all his fault. He should've killed Hjallkar when he had the chance... He should've known Hjallkar would meet up with someone stronger... He shouldn't have been such an idiot... 

"Felwinter, you're worrying me," Timur nervously smirked, squeezing his shoulder. "What's happening? What do those those ink blobs mean?"

Felwinter continued to shake his head. They mean that he did something stupid... That's what they mean... 

"Felwinter..." Timur's brow furrowed anxiously. "Please tell me."

"You wouldn't want to know," he looked away, tracing his eyes over the lines in the wall. "I did something. Something I didn't tell you about."

Timur's lips pressed together, abandoning his original response. Felwinter sighed at the silence. He was already preparing himself for the worst. For Timur to yell, accuse him of being a traitor and demand an explanation. For Timur to turn away and never speak to him again. That's how everything ended before... You only got one chance... But Timur did none of those things. Instead, he shifted closer. 

"I think you're worrying yourself over nothing..." Timur said in his own clevor way of getting answers without asking for them. 

Felwinter, as with everything involving Timur, fell hard for it. "I'm not," he nearly growled with frustration. "Two of our targets who absolutely hate each other just met up and I let them." 

"No, you didn't let them do anything," Timur argued.

"I let them go," Felwinter stated, sharing his secrets to win the argument. "That transmission we recieved? That cave I entered alone? Our target was there. He was chained up. He wasn't mentally stable. He was as vengeful as anyone could be, but I let him go because I felt... I felt..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter... I let him go and just ruined everything."

Timur lowered his gaze. “Are you certain it is as serious as you say it is?”

“Yes. It’s serious,” he began to pace. “We need to get over there now.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” he looked at Timur with a desperation he’d never had before. “Please, Timur. We need to go.”

“Alright,” he nodded slowly then looked up at him with a smirk. “Give me a minute to get the ship ready. We’ll leave tonight.”

Tonight wasn’t fast enough... He couldn’t afford to wait. Could he steal Timur’s ship? Trick the Iron Lord into allowing him access? 

His plans quickly died out as Timur left the room. Felwinter shook himself and followed the other Iron Lord only to stop himself. Timur would be getting the ship ready... He didn’t need to be bothered, besides, they’d spent the last day together... Surely Timur was tired of him... 

Felwinter turned away from the entrence to head back to his room only to be stopped by the sound of the door opening again. 

“Hey, I wasnt’ expecting to see you back here!”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Skorri make her way towards him.

“Hello, Felwinter, what’re you doing here?” She asked. 

Why did it matter to her? Couldn’t he just stand about the floor of his own sanctuary without having someone check in on him?

“Waiting,” He responded with a sigh. “Timur is getting his ship ready to leave tonight.”

“You two are going out again?” She asked with a smile. “That’s great!” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. What did she know about it? Nothing. She knew nothing.

“You know, I’m so glad that you two are getting along really well,” Skorri’s cheeks turned blush pink as she continued to talk. "Well, I'm about to head out. Want to come with me?" 

He glanced back at the door. He really shouldn't go with Skorri. He and Timur had to leave now... "Where are you going?" He asked.

"The Eastern Wall," she responded. "Jolder called for backup."

He stared at her dumbfounded. Backup? He would've never guessed with how cheerful she was being... 

"I'll come with you," he offered then stepped into place beside Skorri as she led him to the City's Eastern Wall. "Why did Jolder of all Risen need backup?"

"There's another Risen there," Skorri answered.

"A Risen?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "All Jolder said was that this Risen was being difficult. He stole two rifles and a loaf of bread from one of the shelters. According to Silimar, he's not from the City."

"Do we know his name?"

"Jolder said it was 'Dion.'"


End file.
